


The AKUMA Program

by ProbablyVoldemort



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: (nothing explicit though), Aged-Up Character(s), Akuma Possession, Basically, Character Death, Dark, Everyone's an AKUMA, F/M, Fake Character Death, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Hallucinations, Kidnapping, Less Vague Torture, Like seriously I don't know how it got so dark, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Swearing, Torture, Vague torture, mature subject matter, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-06-09 11:43:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 48,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6904570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProbablyVoldemort/pseuds/ProbablyVoldemort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The AKUMA program takes in children and spits out assassins and supersoldiers.  Ladybug and Chat Noir have been in AKUMA since they were three, longer than any of the others.  And they're the best.<br/>But Chat begins to think that maybe they're not the good guys.  Maybe they're not the superheroes swooping in to save the day.<br/>Because on TV, the heroes aren't the ones who burn down cities.  The heroes don't take pride in how many people they can make scream.  The heroes don't wash blood off their hands at the end of the night.<br/>Maybe they're the villains.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't Let the Bed Bugs Bite

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly have no idea where I'm heading with this. I had a dream last night and it gave me a vague idea for this fic and I decided to go for it. So yeah. We're all in this ride together and we'll see where it goes. Also, I wrote this in, like, two hours and didn't edit it, so let me know if there's any mistakes.

Her name was Ladybug. That’s what they told her, anyway. It didn’t feel like her name, but she couldn’t think of another name, so she went with it.

Ladybug was small. She was a lot smaller than the people who worked with her. Her trainer, Miss Tikki, said it was because she was three and she’d get bigger eventually. But it didn’t matter. She liked being small. It meant she could duck and roll under the trainers’ legs and beat them at the games. She liked the games. They were fun. She got to fight pretend bad guys and play with her yo-yo.

The tests? Those weren’t fun. The tests came every once a week. The doctors would give her shots and then they’d attach machines to her. The machines hurt.

But today was not a day for tests. Today was a day for games.

There were tiny rooms with doors that lead into the arena. Ladybug couldn’t count very high yet, but there were more than ten of them. That was a lot. There was one room that had letters on the top. Miss Tikki said they spelt out LADYBUG. Ladybug couldn’t read, so she trusted Miss Tikki.

That was her room. That was the room she went into before the games, the room that changed her from her boring white clothes to the clothes she liked to call her Ladybug clothes. And it brought her yo-yo with them. She loved her yo-yo.

But today, something was different. There were words above the door next to hers. There were eight letters, different ones than the ones on her LADYBUG sign. She didn’t know what that meant.

She went through her room, through her change, and pulled her yo-yo off her hip, cradling it to her chest. Her yo-yo was her best friend. Her yo-yo didn’t hurt her, didn’t make her do the tests with the machines. Miss Tikki was her best person friend, but Miss Tikki made her do the tests. So the yo-yo was better.

She stepped out of the room, ready to wait for Miss Tikki to tell her what kind of game they were playing today.

But something else was different.

Miss Tikki wasn’t the only person waiting in the arena for her.

A man was there, too. She thought his name was Mr. Plagg, but she wasn’t totally sure. He sometimes did tests, or joined in the games. He wasn’t what was different.

There was also a boy. A boy who was about her age, with yellow hair and black clothes and cat ears and a tail.

Ladybug hadn’t seen a boy before, but she was pretty sure they didn’t usually have tails.

“Good morning, Miss Tikki,” she said, smiling as she made her way over. “What game are we playing today?”

Miss Tikki smiled back, clasping her hands in front of her. “We’re playing a different type of game today,” she told her, then gestured at the others. “You remember Mr. Plagg?” Ladybug nodded, happy that she’d remembered his name right. Tikki turned to the boy. “Ladybug, we’ve got a friend for you. He’s just finished his first testing, and you’re going to help with his training. How’s that sound?”

Ladybug tilted her head, looking at the cat-boy. He was staring at her with wide eyes, his tail wrapped in his hands. His eyes were green, and she liked that colour. There wasn’t a lot of green anywhere. She didn’t know why, but she liked this boy. He didn’t seem like all the other people, who acted nice and then would send her off for tests. And Miss Tikki said he’d just had the first test, and Ladybug remembered how awful she felt after that.

Miss Tikki said he was a friend? Was that allowed? Miss Tikki was her only friend, and her yo-yo. Was she allowed to have more friends? She didn’t know, but she really wanted this cat-boy to be her friend.

So she smiled at him and held out her hand. “I’m Wadybuwg,” she said. “Wet’s be fwens.”

The boy looked at her hand for a long time, his eyebrows scrunched together through his mask. Then he slowly reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling it towards his face.

And then he licked it.

Ladybug made a face, pulling her hand back quickly. The boy gave her a tiny smile and grabbed onto his tail again.

“My name is…” He trailed off, his eyebrows scrunching together again. “Kitty?”

“This is Chat Noir,” Mr. Plagg said, pushing the boy closer to Ladybug. “You two are going to be partners, okay? Now, Ladybug. Why don’t you show him the obstacle course?”

Ladybug nodded, and held out her hand for Chat Noir to take. “C’mon, Kitty. Wet’s go pway.”

Mr. Plagg and Miss Tikki watched the kids as Ladybug showed Chat how her yo-yo worked by swirling it around and using it to pull herself to the top of the scaffolding of the obstacle course. She then dropped back to the ground, and the two of them examined the baton that was strapped to Chat’s back.

“This isn’t right,” Tikki murmured, too low for the microphones to pick up. “They’re kids. We shouldn’t be doing this to them.”

“If we don’t do it, someone else will,” Plagg reminded her, shuffling closer to be heard. “And they might be worse to them.”

Tikki nodded, and they watched Ladybug and Chat Noir tumble off the scaffolding as they tried to figure out Chat’s baton. She still didn’t agree with the AKUMA program, though. It definitely wasn’t what she’d signed up for when she’d walked into the offices for an interview six years ago.

But it was what was happening.

Ladybug and Chat Noir had seemed to have gotten a handle on the baton by the time they wandered back to the trainers.

“Snacks?” Ladybug asked, her yo-yo clutched in one hand and one of Chat’s clutched in her other. His freehand still gripped his tail.

Miss Tikki put on a smile. “Of course, dear,” she said, and her charge grinned, pulling Chat back towards the doors.

Ladybug lay in bed that night, curled under the blankets. This was different, too. Before, her bedroom had more than ten beds, but she was the only one who slept in them. Now, Chat Noir was in the bed next to her.

“Bug?”

“Yeah, Kitty?”

“I can’t sweep.”

Ladybug sat up, pushing her blankets back. “Wanna sweep in my bed? We can cuddle.”

Chat Noir sat up, too, looking at her through the dark. His cat ears and his tail were gone, and his eyes were less green without the mask. He stood up, though, padding across the cold floor between their beds. Ladybug grabbed his hands and pulled him up, and they curled around each other under the blankets.

Ladybug liked having a friend. Chat made a good friend, even better than her yo-yo because he got to come with her after the games. He was probably her new best friend, but  
she’d have to talk to her yo-yo about that first. It might hurt its feelings.

“Night, Kitty,” she whispered.

His arms tightened around her, and he was holding her the same way he’d held his tail earlier. “Night, Bug. Don’t wet da bed bugs bite!”

*********

“C’mon, Kitty. Are you a scaredy-cat?”

“While I appreciate the pun, Bug, there’s no way in hell I’m doing that.”

“But it’ll be fun! Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I decided to leave it in our room today in exchange for my sense of not wanting to die.”

“Kitty. We’ve done this before. You didn’t die then.”

“Only because Horrificator pulled me out of the air before I could crash through the building. And I didn’t even agree to it that time! You just threw me!”

“You wouldn’t have died even if she hadn’t caught you. But fine. Do you have a better plan? Wifi and Bubbles are doing a really bad job at sneaking up on us over there.”

“Me? Have a plan? That’s your job, Bugaboo. Unless it’s a plan for our date. Cause I do have a plan for that.”

“This isn’t the time, Kitty. Okay. Here’s the plan.”

“I like that plan, Bug. Very small chance of death.”

“I thought you’d like it.”

“Wanna give me a kiss for good luck?”

“Kitty, you know we don’t kiss on the battle field. Save it for later.”

“So I _will_ be getting a kiss later?”

“Focus, Kitty.”

Chat Noir gave her a mock solute, diving off the edge of the building before catching himself on his baton and twirling to the ground in front of Lady Wifi. The girl, who was dressed in black and purple, and whose reddish hair was pulled back in a ponytail, jumped. Chat flashed her a sympathetic look—she’d lose points for that—before leaning forward on his baton and cocking his hip.

“What’s the plan, Wifi?” he asked, smirking as the girl glanced around. “Bubbler send you out here to distract me while he crosses around back to capture us?” By the shocked look that flashed momentarily across her face, Chat could tell he’d guessed right. He stood up, retracting his baton into one hand and throwing his arms out wide. “I’m game, Wifi. Bring it. Distract me.”

Lady Wifi stood frozen for a few moments—Chat was already feeling the punishment she’d be getting for these lapses—before matching Chat’s smirk with one of her own. She pulled something from behind her back, waving it in front of his face. Chat crossed his arms as she wiggled the laser pointer around, shining it at walls.

“Really? You really think I’ll go for that?”

Wifi shrugged, dancing the laser up his front. “You used to be that much of a cat,” she reminded him. “These worked on you when we were five.”

“I also used to lick Ladybug and hiss at Heartbreaker. I don’t do that anymore either.” Chat rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t because I was more of a cat. It was because I thought I was a cat. Because I was five. And an idiot.”

“Then we agree. Nothing’s changed.” Wifi tossed the laser pointer away, drawing attention to the power lines that had floated up behind Chat while he wasn’t paying attention. He commended Wifi’s tricks, but flipped over her with only a single wack of electricity across his back.

He extended his baton, vaulting across to where he knew Bubbler was hiding out, preparing whatever trap they were setting up. There was a TV in the window of one of the stores that lined this street, which Chat knew was why they picked it, his suspicions confirmed as Lady Wifi teleported herself out of it.

“Looks like it’s the end of the meow-d fur you.” Chat smirked leaning back against a car. The car came to life suddenly, taking off forward so fast that Chat could barely keep his balance. He shot an unimpressed look towards Wifi’s smirk, extending his baton into a staff.

He’d stalled and distracted, and now it was time for the battle to begin.

Wifi’s phone came off her belt, swiping at it as the cars that littered the street came to life and surrounded Chat. Bubbler opened his mouth, an array of purple and red bubbles flying out at Chat.

“Anytime now, Bug,” he called out, flipping over obstacles, his baton swinging in front of him to bat them away.

Ladybug’s yo-yo came from the rooftops, wrapping around Wifi and pulling her into the air. She dropped her phone and Chat pounced, smashing the thing to bits. Wifi swore, knowing she was trapped.

Chat flipped away, dodging the bubbles sent at him by Bubbler. The red ones exploded against the building behind him, gradually opening a hole in the side. Ladybug knew they’d have to act quickly, or the building would crumble, taking her with it.

With a well-timed swipe of his baton, Chat knocked a purple bubble away from him and towards Lady Wifi. Ladybug released her yo-yo at the right moment, and Wifi fell into the bubble, which then turned green and floated away.

If things were going slower, Bubbler could have released his partner. But, as it was, all his attention was on Chat Noir, as he danced through the bubbles, and Ladybug, who jumped from the roof to join them on the ground.

“You might as well surrender right meow, Bubbles,” Chat taunted, executing a backflip. “You’re paws-itively never going to cat-ch up with our lead.”

Bubbler gave him an unimpressed look, the bubbles shooting from his mouth stopping him from retorting. Which was just as well. Ladybug’s yo-yo swung in a wide arc, wrapping up their final opponent.

The bubbles still sprayed from Bubbler, but they couldn’t follow Chat as he flipped over him, landing squarely behind the boy. His hands found the sides of Bubbler’s head, and he tilted it to mock snapping his neck.

The bubbles stopped. The game was over.

Ladybug released Bubbler, closing the distance between her and Chat, holding out her fist. Her partner’s connected with hers. “Good job!”

“That wasn’t fair,” Bubbler complained, releasing Wifi from his bubble and catching her before she hit the ground. Tikki and Plagg were making their way across the arena, ready with notes on their performances. “Everybody knows Ladybug and Chat count as at least six people.”

Chat held a hand up to his chest. “I’m paw-fended, Bubbles,” he said, his voice taking on a huffy tone. “The lady counts as at least seven, and I’m probably somewhere around fifteen.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes, sharing a look with Lady Wifi, who’d picked up the broken remains of her phone and was frowning at them.

“So.” Chat slung his arm around Ladybug’s shoulders, leaning in to grin at her. It was the ridiculously goofy grin that was saved for when he was looking at her. It was her favourite of his smiles. “Do I get that kiss now?”

She pecked him on the cheek. “We’ve still got notes, silly kitty,” she reminded him, her own arm wrapping around his waist. “You can wait a minute.”

Tikki and Plagg approached. “Flawless performance, Ladybug, Chat Noir,” Tikki said. We’ve only got minor notes for you, and they’ll be delivered for you to go over during your tests. You’re dismissed.” Ladybug and Chat nodded, crossing the arena to their respective doors.

Ladybug closed her eyes as the sensation past over her of her transformation being dropped. It was strange, as though a layer of skin was being peeled off and she was being left naked for the world. She wasn’t naked, since the sports bra and shorts she’d been wearing before the game had reappeared, but that’s what it felt like.

Ladybug had grown up at AKUMA. She’d been there for as long as she could remember. If she tried hard enough, she could remember snippets of a life before. The smell of baking bread. A warm hug. A laugh. Nothing concrete enough to allow her to paint a picture of who she could have been if she hadn’t been taken in by AKUMA.

A lot had changed in the fifteen years since Chat Noir had arrived. Of the twenty doors leading into the arena, seventeen were named. The others had arrived gradually over time, Puppeteer having been the latest to arrive only months before. They all shared the same dorm as she and Chat, and the halls seemed less empty and more alive.

The games had changed, too. Instead of the trainers competing, they competed against their friends, their teammates. It was practice, Ladybug now knew, for the missions they’d been sent on since they turned ten. How you did in the games determined whether you went on missions or if you’d face punishments. The punishments were worse than the tests.

The tests had changed, too. Ladybug and Chat no longer needed weekly injections, moving on to once a month or when other tests said they needed more. The tests with the machines, though, still happened regularly.

The biggest thing to change, though, Ladybug mused, stepping out into the hallway to find him waiting, was Chat. No longer was he the small, scared boy whose hand she’d held on his first day—of course, there was still a lot of hand holding. Chat had grown much taller than she had, and his muscles were much more defined than hers. They strained against the t-shirt he wore when he crossed his arms against his chest the way he was doing now.

The point was this: Chat Noir had gotten hot. Really hot.

He was still her best friend. That hadn’t changed. But they were something more than that now.

And his eyes? His eyes were still the same green but now they could stare into her soul and read her mind with a single look.

“Ready for our date?” Chat pushed himself off the wall he’d been leaning against, crossing the room to wrap his arms around Ladybug’s waist. “I hear they’re serving tacos. My treat.”

Ladybug snorted, her own arms reaching up to tangle around his neck. “They never serve tacos,” she pointed out. Just because you and Bubbler stole them on the last mission doesn’t mean they’re going to start serving them.”

Chat shrugged, not seeming to care, and his face was moving closer to hers. “Well, they should,” he whispered, his nose brushing against hers. Her breath caught in her throat. “But if they’re not serving tacos, it won’t matter if we’re a few minutes late for lunch, will it?”

Ladybug shook her head, her lips closing the distance between them.

Yes, her relationship with Chat was definitely one of the biggest changes. They weren’t the only ones who were together, though. Bubbler and Lady Wifi had been together longer than anyone else. Reflekta and Princess Fragrance. Horrificator and Stoneheart. Chronogirl and Heartbreaker has some sort of on-again-off-again thing that nobody really understood, and Gamer and Vanisher had been dancing around each other for a while.

So they weren’t the only people in a relationship. But that didn’t matter. Because Ladybug was fairly certain she was in love with Chat Noir. As he backed her up against the wall and her fingers dug into his hair and their mouths moved against each other, she couldn’t think of anywhere else she wanted to be. She didn’t care about baking bread or any of the other tiny bits of memory she had of her life before. None of it mattered. Because if she hadn’t been brought to AKUMA, she’d never have met Chat, and she wouldn’t trade him for anything.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Chat pulled away, just enough to look backwards over his shoulder. Lady Wifi and Bubbler had emerged from their respective doors and looked massively unimpressed.

“Kissing?” Chat said. “Is that not allowed anymore?”

Ladybug snorted, pushing away from the wall and ducking out of Chat’s embrace, their hands immediately moving to wrap around each other.

“Have you been kissing this whole time?” Lady Wifi looked incredulous in her purple work out gear, and mildly impressed. “We got at least ten minutes of notes.” Ladybug shrugged, and Chat started down the hallway, pulling her by the hand.

“We’ve got a date to get to, Bug,” he reminded her.

 

_*********_

 

The “date” was not much of a date. At least, not much of the kind of dates they saw on TV. This date was eating steak and vegetables and protein packs in the cafeteria with the rest of the AKUMAs.

“How bad did Chat and Ladybug kick your asses today?” Chronogirl wanted to know, sliding in beside Lady Wifi with her own tray of food. Chronogirl had pink hair, and wore her roller blades around even when she wasn’t in costume for the games. It was practice, she said.

“It’s not like it was a fair fight,” Wifi complained, readjusting her glasses. “The trainers know it takes at least four of us to even come close to beating them when they team up Chat and Ladybug.”

“I call for a rematch,” Bubbler agreed. “This afternoon. Me and Wifi and…Heartbreaker and Vanisher.”

“What about me?” Heartbreaker was one of the few, along with Horrificator, Queen Bee, and Gamer, who had permanent mutations outside of their costumes. The black feathered wings that sprouted from his back wacked Chronogirl in the face as he sat down beside her.

“You’re gonna help me and Wifi beat Chat and Ladybug in our rematch,” Bubbler said, leaning against the table. “What do you say? After lunch. You two against us four. We’re gonna kick your asses into next week.”

“We have tests this afternoon, so it’s gonna have to wait.” Ladybug made a face, stabbing into her steak from where she was seated on Chat’s lap. She wasn’t very inclined to eat anything. It’d all come up during the tests anyway.

“Boo.” Wifi pouted, waving her fork at her friends. “That’s just a sorry excuse for being too scared to face us.”

“Says you,” Chat shot back. “We’ll do it once we’re recovered. It’ll give you time to practice and get to our level.” Bubbler reached across the table, and the two boys shook hands.

_“Ladybug and Chat Noir. Please proceed immediately to Lab 7 for your tests.”_

Ladybug pushed away her mostly uneaten food and stood up, pulling Chat with her.

“Ready?” she asked, and suddenly the scared little boy was back behind his eyes.

“No.” He shook his head, pulling her in for a kiss. It was for strength, he reasoned, strength to get them through their tests. “Let’s go.”

*********

Exhausted and aching, Ladybug and Chat leaned against each other for support as they hobbled down the hallway. They didn’t pass anyone else, which was fine. They’d seen their captains at their worst before—no one looked good after the tests, especially not after having spent hours listening to your best friend, the love of your life, scream out in agony—but the lack of people made the trip to their room a lot shorter.

Ladybug fell into their bed without speaking, barely having the energy to pull back the blankets. Chat crawled in beside her, wrapping his battered limbs around her and pulling her tight to him.

They’d slept together since that first night. At first, it was because they were scared, because Ladybug finally had someone to be scared with, because Chat was in a new place where people hurt him. By the time they were five, it was habit. They’d tried sleeping in their own beds, but that had only lead to sleepless nights and cranky children. So they’d shared a bed every single night, even through the years when Chronogirl and Heartbreaker and Queen Bee teased them about catching cooties and “Ooo, are you _dating_?” Sure, it had gotten cramped by now, the twin bed too small for two eighteen year olds to fit comfortably. But Ladybug couldn’t imagine trying to sleep without her kitty’s chest under her head, hearing his steady heartbeat against her cheek, and Chat didn’t want to think about not having his lady wrapped around him, his nose buried in her hair.

There was something else, too, some sort of connection that the doctors and trainers couldn’t understand. The more time Ladybug and Chat spent physically together, the stronger they became, the faster their abilities advanced and changed, the faster they healed after a test or a mission. The tests didn’t explain it. The scientists didn’t understand it.

But Ladybug did.

It was because they were soulmates.

Neither knew how long they lay there, arms and legs tangled up in each other’s, not quite awake but not asleep either, before the others finished training for the night and returned to the dorms for bed.

“This is disgusting,” Wifi teased, pulling down the blankets on her bed, the one that had been Chat’s for half a night fifteen years ago. “You two are the grossest people I know. You’re so disgustingly adorable that this should be illegal.”

Ladybug didn’t have the energy to roll her eyes, or to even lift her face off Chat. “I walked in on you and Bubbler last week,” she reminded her friend, her eyes staring at her lazily through Chat’s hair. “That was disgusting. This is not disgusting.”

Chronogirl snorted, her own bed just across the small walkway. “I’ve walked in on Wifi and Bubbler, too. Most people have,” she pointed out. “This is still more gross than that.”

Ladybug didn’t bother defending herself anymore, just pushed herself closer against Chat. His fingers had found their way into her hair at some point, and they moved through it at a lazy pace. The others quickly got into their respective beds, just as the lights went out for curfew, and Ladybug pressed a half-hearted kiss against Chat’s neck.

“Night, Kitty,” she whispered, her fingers tracing patterns against his side.

“Night, Bug,” he whispered back. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

“If I wasn’t so tired, I would bite you.” Chat’s chuckle vibrated through her body, and she smiled into his skin. “That joke got old, like, a decade ago.”


	2. Bedtime Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A history of the AKUMA program

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really short because I wanted to get out this background on the program and see what you all think. Personally, I like it.  
> Anyway, I think I've figured out where I'm going with this. There's not a lot of plot in this chapter. It's mostly just world building.  
> So yeah. Let me know what you think!

The AKUMA program was founded in 1962 by the French government with the hopes to generate a serum to create the ultimate supersoldier. It was great in theory, but not so much in practice. For twenty seven years, serum after serum was created, only to immediately kill any test subjects. By 1989, the program was officially abandoned.

Or so they thought.

One man by the name of Doctor Jean Papillon refused to believe the program was a failure. So he continued in secret. His experiments became more brutal, the resulting deaths longer and more painful.

But, by 1995, he’d created a successful serum, mostly thanks to the joining of ex-military scientists Agents Angelique Tikki and Edwin Plagg to the program. Otis Panthère, 47, became the first official AKUMA success. He had strength beyond anything imaginable, speeds that rivaled that of the fastest cars, and an accelerated healing factor. All of that was to be expected from the serum. That was what was planned for. What wasn’t expected was the fact that Panthère could transform into different animals. It was unexpected, but Papillon was thrilled. Supersoldiers who could become cheetahs and outrun the enemy? Spies that could become a literal fly on the wall inside enemy quarters? It was perfect. The serum worked better than expected.

It was three weeks before Otis Panthère dropped dead.

It was speculated that maybe Panthère was too old, that his heart wasn’t strong enough to take the treatments. So they tried again. The serum gave each test subject a different ability. Xavier Ramier, 45, gained the ability to communicate with animals. For two and a half months. Each subject was younger than the last. Armond D’Argencourt, 42, lasted six months. Fred Haprèle, 38, lasted eight. Weng Cheng, 35, lasted eight and a half. Jasper Stone, 29, lasted a year and three days. Simon Grimault, 25, and Vincent Aza, 24, each lasted a year and a half.

By the time 1997 rolled around, Papillon was getting desperate. The serum was a success, in theory, but it was killing off every subject. Agent Plagg suggested going even younger, which lead to the final subjects. Jalil Kubdel and Theo Barbeau at eighteen were as young as they could legally get volunteers without going through parents, which would have added another unnecessary detail.

Kubdel died on February 8th, 2000. Barbeau died six days later.

Papillon lost his mind. For five years, he’d had a successful serum. One that could create the perfect soldier. One that could create an entire army of perfect soldiers, each with their own personal skill that no one else could match.

One that killed every test subject.

It was maddening.

On March 17th, 2000, two year old Marinette Dupain-Cheng went missing from a park near her house when her parents turned their backs for only a moment. By September, after months of injections and conditioning, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was no more. In her place was Ladybug.

The serum seemed to take to Ladybug much better than it had to even Kubdel and Barbeau. Her abilities set in within days of the first injection. Minor wounds would heal within minutes, and the tiny girl could lift a car over her head. That was standard, however, of everyone who’d received the injections. What wasn’t standard was Ladybug’s ability to create something out of thin air, something that would help her in whatever situation she was in. She had another power, too. One that threatened Papillon’s plans, so he forbid anyone from telling her about it.

Agents Tikki and Plagg didn’t fully agree with Papillon’s decision to take the girl, but they looked after her like they were her own. And if they added something extra to the some of the first injections in their own secret experiment, no one needed to know.

The kidnapping on October 3rd, 2000, of fashion mogul Gabriel Agreste’s son made international news, but no one could find Adrien anywhere.

Now, it should be said that Tikki and Plagg were not what one would picture when they think of ex-military scientists. Angelique Tikki was a short, plump woman with dyed red hair pulled up on top of her head. She was the type of person who forgot to dye it back, so perpetual black roots showed at all times. Black circles dangled from her ears, so large that it was a wonder her ears didn’t hurt. She wore frilly red shirts under her lab coats that matched her hair and her lips.

Edwin Plagg was the opposite. A tall thin man with dark skin, Plagg preferred dark suits under his lab coats. His dark hair was slicked back, and his long moustache completed his look.

It was without a doubt that Agents Plagg and Tikki were not what one would expect. But they were the best in the business. Not to mention they were well past attached to their charges, to Ladybug and the Agreste boy, to whom they also added their own secret via the injections.

December 2000 brought news. Papillon had changed. Years of failures and rejections had driven him away from the original goals of the AKUMA program. The AKUMAs were supposed to protect France, to help their country in a time of need.

Papillon wanted to destroy France, to exact revenge on those who had wronged him. He wanted to take over the world, to drive fear into everyone’s lives using his AKUMAs. And he was going to start with France.

Neither Agent Tikki nor Agent Plagg was thrilled with this news. Papillon’s plans included killing thousands of people—and he wanted to use children to do it. His plan was to condition these children into believing that what they were doing was right. That in killing others and destroying things they were helping to save the world.

“But they’re just children,” Tikki argued. “You can’t do this to children. You can’t teach children to kill and tell them they’re heroes.”

“It’s not right,” Plagg agreed. “Conditioning them like this, it’s inhumane, not to mention illegal.”

They were standing in an observation room, watching as Adrien was attached to machines, screaming and writhing around. Papillon didn’t turn away from the window.

“If you’ve changed your minds, we have no use for two of you anymore,” he said, his voice cold. “Your contracts can be terminated, and Nooroo can take your place looking after the children.”

Tikki stole a glance over her shoulder at the bald man leaning against the wall. Agent Michel Nooroo was Papillon’s right hand man, standing at seven foot three inches and almost three hundred pounds of pure muscle. She couldn’t let Nooroo take over. She couldn’t do that to the kids.

Plagg agreed. “We haven’t changed our minds,” he grunted. “We were just letting you know so you make sure to cover all the bases.”

They stood in silence as Adrien cried out once more, destroying the table he was strapped to with a touch of his hand.

By the following May, there was no Adrien for the Agreste family to find, and Chat Noir met Ladybug soon after.

The program was a resounding success. By the beginning of 2002, three more AKUMAs were added: Lady Wifi, Bubbler, and Queen Bee. By the end of 2003, there were Dessinateur, Reflekta, Heartbreaker, and Stoneheart were added to the program. Volpina, Chronogirl, and Princess Fragrance came the next year, and Climatika, Horrificator, Gamer, and Vanisher had rounded out the program by the end of 2005. Tikki and Plagg hadn’t added any secrets to the serum since Chat Noir.

Sixteen AKUMAs. Sixteen children living in underground labs. Sixteen children who spent their days mastering superpowers and martial arts, practicing gymnastics on the rooftops of a fake city. Sixteen children who learnt far too young the best ways to kill someone, how to withstand torture and not spill secrets.

Sixteen children who knew to never run away because of the chip buried in their forearm. A chip that tracked their movements. A chip that would detonate should they ever try to remove it. A chip that Papillon could detonate himself should he ever choose to.

The children, though, the AKUMAs, didn’t fear Papillon. Why would they ever want to run away? They had their friends and their games in the labs. Why would they want to leave?

By 2008, the oldest AKUMAs were ten years old. Ladybug and Chat Noir ran circles around the others during their games, and Papillon decided it was time for the world to know he was still there.

The AKUMAs were told they were saving the world. They knew that Papillon was sent out of society for knowing the world was going to end, because no one believed him. They knew about the brainwashed zombies living in France, the ones that would kill them for being different, the ones that followed the leaders blindly. The ones that had to be controlled or destroyed in order to save the world and for Papillon to take over.

Their first mission came on August 2nd, 2008. Seven AKUMAs were sent into downtown Paris. Ladybug. Chat Noir. Lady Wifi. Bubbler. Heartbreaker. Queen Bee. Stoneheart. Three hours. Twenty thousand casualties.

France went into a panic. A manhunt was sent out for Papillon. Military factions were created to fight the AKUMAs. The world went into a state of emergency.

The years went on. Papillon’s ambitions grew. The missions were more intense, the kill count rising higher and higher. Entire military hideouts were destroyed. Governments went down. The AKUMAs’ skill increased beyond anything Papillon had ever imagined.

By 2016, he had almost taken France. He planned to have the world by 2020.

He started collecting children again, Puppeteer becoming the seventeenth AKUMA in early 2016.

A mission was set for that summer. The biggest mission since the dawn of AKUMA. By the end of July, France would be Papillon’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. We've got Papillon and Nooroo now, so that's fun. Hopefully this gives you a good idea of where this is coming from. Updates will NOT be this often normally, but I was inspired this morning. Hope you liked it! Let me know what you think! Comments are life and come find me on Tumblr at im-not-voldemort.


	3. With True Love's Kiss, the Spell Shall Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ladybug and Chat Noir recover from their tests and injections--and their side effects. The rematch ensues, with some unexpected results. We meet the rest of the AKUMAs. Papillon has a new mission for the kids. Ladybug and Chat go stargazing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm back! I don't have too much to say before you read this (I have a lot to say after you read this) but I just want to tell you that we're probably looking at every other week for updates for this, alternating with updates to Not Ready (which you should go check out if you haven't already). I think it'll just work best like this.
> 
> Also I actually have kind of figured out most of a plot for this! So chapters will hopefully be longer than the first two from now on.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chat Noir woke up sore and groaning, but generally feeling alright. Which was normal after a test. It really only took one night’s sleep cuddled around Ladybug to feel better. But if he was still sore, it meant that Ladybug was much worse off.

He pulled her tight against him as the lights in the dormitory turned on, waking the AKUMAs for the day. Lady Wifi sat up with a yawn in the bed beside them, glancing over through squinted eyes to meet Chat’s own.

“All good?” she mouthed, groping around on the table between the beds for her glasses. Chat shook his head, his fingers moving through Ladybug’s hair as she mumbled in her sleep. Wifi sent him a sympathetic look before rising from bed and making her way to the showers.

The AKUMAs weren’t expected to return to their schedules until they were back to feeling good as new after a test. As their stamina improved and their healing quickened, the tests were made harder, longer, and more painful, but also more spread out, giving the AKUMAs a chance to recover between them.

Which is why Chat and Ladybug were granted twenty four hours before anyone was sent to check on them. Their tests were miles above the others’, and, while Chat recovered fairly quickly, it always took Ladybug a while longer. The scientists couldn’t explain it. Or at least they’d never offered an explanation to either Chat or Ladybug.

So Chat lay awake, rubbing Ladybug’s back and hoping she didn’t wake as well, watching the others collect their clothes for the day and head off to the showers.

They’d long since departed when Ladybug finally did stir, squeezing her eyes shut against the light and burying her face in Chat’s chest.

“Morning, Bug.”

“Too bright,” she muttered, pulling their sheet over her head. “Turn them off.”

Chat planted a kiss on the top of her head, pulling away to stand up. “Bug, you have to let go of me if you want me to shut the lights up,” he laughed as Ladybug’s arms tightened around him. She sighed, loosening them minimally, barely enough for Chat to pull away.

“Come back, Kitty,” she whispered, her face buried in the pillow.

“Just give me a second.”

Chat crossed the room, his body protesting the movements, flipping the switch by the door and plunging the dormitory into darkness. He stood for a moment, blinking, before his night vision kicked in and he made his way back to the bed, slipping back in beside Ladybug. She was quick to return to their original position, lying across his chest with her arms wrapped around him.

“How’re you feeling?” His voice was quiet, knowing that Ladybug would fall back to sleep any moment.

“Hurts,” she mumbled, her lips moving against him.

“Just sleep, okay? You’ll feel better when you wake up.” He felt her nod in agreement and ran his hands through her hair.

Chat Noir and Ladybug were different from the other AKUMAs in that their powers seemed to be tied to each other. Chat didn’t understand it, but he also didn’t really care too much about the why. Whatever the case, the closer they were, the more time they spent together, the more powerful they became and the extent of that power increased. The more skin-to-skin contact they had, the faster they healed.

They’d discovered this back when they were four or five, after a particularly nasty test. Chat had recovered entirely after a night’s rest, Ladybug wrapped around him, but she was still too weak to return to the schedule. Despite Chat’s protests, they’d insisted he join the others in training, ultimately having to drag the hissing child away from his friend.

Three days later, Ladybug still hadn’t recovered. She seemed at her best in the mornings, but would deteriorate during the day. Which led to Tikki suggesting that they let Chat stay with her during the day, as she’d always recovered quickly when they were left together.

So, on the fourth day, Chat stayed in bed.

Ladybug was fully recovered by lunchtime, and they never tried to separate them during their healing time again.

They’d experimented on it themselves over the years, trying to find the best ways to heal. One test in particular, when they were eight or nine, left them shaking and blue. They’d bundled up under extra blankets and sweaters, the heat in the dormitory turned up to high. But it wasn’t until after a week of little progress that they’d stripped down to their underwear that any major healing seemed to take place.

This was why, now, they went to the tests in as little as possible. Ladybug wore her sports bras and shorts, and Chat only wore shorts. Sure, there were less layers to protect their skin, but it was much easier to just fall into bed than struggle to get out of unnecessary clothing when they could hardly move.

Chat pulled her closer as her breaths evened out, his hand running up and down her back. It wasn’t long before he, too, fell back to sleep.

*********

The second time Chat woke up was when the lights turned on again. He figured that Wifi must have walked past the dorm and felt like messing with them. The pain was gone, and he felt better than ever, a feeling that always came along with an injection. Ladybug stirred on his chest.

“You awake, Bug?” he asked quietly. She hummed the affirmative. “How’re you feeling?”

“Starving,” Ladybug muttered, and Chat chuckled.

“I think I can help with that,” he offered, his voice low. He flipped them over, caging Ladybug in with his arms and pressing their lips together. They still had a few hours left. Why not make good use of them?

Ladybug kissed him back, her hands entwining in his hair. The monthly injections made them even more touchy than usual, making her crave his lips. She didn’t know how far they would have gone, how long they would have stayed in bed, if her stomach hadn’t interrupted them.

“Nice try, Kitty,” she commended, pulling away from Chat and rolling out from underneath him. “But I need actual food. I haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday.”

Chat sighed loudly, following behind as Ladybug got out of bed and made her way into the showers. She stood in front of a mirror, tracing the new scars that crossed over her old ones and the still-healing bruises that dotted her skin. Her red sports bra was stained darker in some spots, and dried blood matted her hair. She grimaced at her reflection, meeting Chat’s eyes behind her.

“At least my hair’s too dark to see the blood,” she laughed, turning to finger the hard red clumps of his bangs. He suck out his tongue at her as she ducked around him and into a stall.

She already felt a lot better than the night before, but the water running over her felt like heaven. Red ran down her body and into the drain as she scrubbed the blood from her hair. She would have stood there forever if her growling stomach hadn’t gotten the best of her. Instead, she turned off the water and dried off, changing into a fresh red sports bra and black shorts, wrapping her hair in her towel.

Chat was waiting for her in front of the mirror, running his fingers over a new pink scar across his jaw that ran from his ear to his chin. Ladybug came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and standing on her tiptoes to rest her chin on his shoulder.

“Food?” she asked, pressing a kiss to his scar. Chat turned in her arms, wrapping his own around her and pulling her close.

“Or we could do something else,” he suggested, and Ladybug’s eyes fell to his lips for a long moment before she snapped herself out of it.

“Later, Kitty.” She smiled up at him, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “I need food first.”

She quickly dried her hair and they retrieved their running shoes from near their beds, both pausing to throw on shirts—much to each other’s dismay—before starting down the hallway to the cafeteria.

Ladybug wasn’t lying when she’d said she was starving. She’d eaten breakfast the morning before, and then barely anything at lunch, and, by the sounds coming from the cafeteria, it was now at least lunch time, possibly even dinner. Chat was curled around her as they snuck into the cafeteria, receiving their healthy meals calculated with the perfect amount of calories for each of them, extra protein packets tossed on the side to make up for their lack of eating in the last twenty four hours.

“Looks like someone finally decided to wake up.”

Chat made a face at Bubbler, sliding into the empty seat at the table and setting his tray down. Ladybug deposited her own tray beside his before climbing into his lap.

“It’s not that we blame you,” Wifi amended, shooting Bubbler a look. “I mean, Chat’s face was still bleeding when we went to bed last night. We figured it’d take you guys a while.”

“Nah, we totally blame you.” Bubbler punctuated his statement with a wink, taking a mouthful of peas. “Yowuh juff twyin’ to get oud of da wemash.”

Ladybug let out a sharp “ha!” but was too engrossed in shoveling food into her face to put up any more of an argument. Chat seemed just as uninclined to argue, nosing his way under Ladybug’s loose hair to pepper her neck in kisses.

So, ultimately, Lady Wifi was the one to keep up the conversation, rolling her eyes. “First of all, that was disgusting.” She shot a look at Bubbler, who had the decency to look slightly ashamed. “Don’t ever do that again. Seriously. I don’t need to see you digesting your food. Second of all, are you going to eat any actual food today, Chat? Or is  
Ladybug’s neck going to be your lunch?” Chronogirl and Heartbreaker burst into laughter from down the table, and Chat’s ears turned pink, though he didn’t move from his position. “No? Not going to answer me? Fine. But third of all, we are going to cream your butts off at the rematch today. You’ve missed an entire day of training. You’re going down.”

“In your dreams,” Ladybug shot back before filling her smirk with mashed potatoes.

Heartbreaker scooted down the bench closer to Wifi. “Hurry up and eat, LB,” he said, leaning forward on his elbows and grinning. “We’ve got free training this afternoon, and you’re gonna need all the time you can get to lose to us.”

“Nice.” Chronogirl snorted, rolling her eyes. Heartbreaker reached out to shove the girl, but, before he could, an exact copy appeared behind him, smashing his face down in his mashed potatoes with a smirk before disappearing again. His friends choked on their laughter—the laughter sharing the blame with her roast beef in Ladybug’s case—as Heartbreaker shot Chrono a glare through his new edible mask.

_“This is a reminder that powers are not to be used outside of the arena, and that three infractions will result in a punishment.”_

“But that’s not even fair!” Chrono cried. “I didn’t even use it in this timeline! That timeline doesn’t even exist anymore, and it’s still affecting me?” Of course, the voice didn’t answer her. It never did. Agent Nooroo wasn’t one to make unnecessary announcements.

“Oh, boohoo. That timeline’s affecting me, too.” Heartbreaker shot her a faux pout, wiping a finger through the mess on his face.

“It’s still not fair,” Chrono grumbled before raising her voice. “Chat uses his powers all the time! Why doesn’t he get punished?” Again, the voice didn’t answer.

“Yeah, Cat-Boy,” Heartbreaker agreed, leering at Ladybug—which was as close as he could get to Chat, who was still buried in Ladybug’s neck. “You’re using your powers right now, aren’t you? What does your cat nose smell?”

“The inevitability of your crushing defeat,” came the reply, though the speaker’s face still didn’t appear. “Tinkerbell.” Heartbreaker scoffed at the nickname, and Ladybug rolled her eyes, pushing Chat’s face away.

“Eat something, Kitty,” she said, smirking at the pout on his face. “We don’t want you passing out during the games.” She turned her smirk on the others. “They might actually stand a tiny chance then.”

*********

“Rules are simple. Anything goes. A kill is an elimination. Acceptable kills will be judged by Volpina, Climatika, and yours truly, and will be announced. Last team with someone left standing is the winner.” Queen Bee crossed her arms, smirking at the end of her speech.

They were standing at the edge of the arena, near the doors leading out. Queen Bee’s blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, a black mask stretched over her eyes. She was dressed in a black and yellow striped dress, and black boots stretched up to her knees, matching black gloves reaching to her elbows. Her daggers were strung around her waist, and her insectoid wings hung from her back.

To her left was Volpina. The taller girl’s long hair was pulled into three different ponytails, the ends fading from brown to white. Her mask was orange and black, and her costume was fox-like in oranges and blacks and whites, long orange ears sprouting from her hair and a wide, flat tail hung from her waist. Her flute was strapped to her back, and she looked as though she’d rather be anywhere than judging the rematch. Ladybug wasn’t entirely sure why she was there to begin with, seeing as none of them were obligated to be there.

To Queen Bee’s right was Climatika. Her hair was in purple and white pigtails, and her dress, such a dark purple in colour that it was almost black, was emblazoned with a white lightning bolt. Her gloves and boots were white, dark purple leggings tucked inside. Her mask cut close to her eyes in a dark purple lightning bolt pattern, cutting down her cheeks. Her umbrella was swung over one shoulder, and she tapped a foot on the ground, impatient for the games to begin.

Behind them stood the spectators, the AKUMAs not participating in the games but instead waiting to watch them unfold, to see if four was a large enough number to take down the unstoppable force that was Ladybug and Chat Noir. 

Chronogirl, with her black and pink helmet, green bug-like eyes acting in place of a mask. Her suit was green and black, with blindingly white wheels attached to the bottom of her feet, her boots acting as a power bar to judge her energy levels: the toes and soles red, reaching up in a striped pattern to her knees as they faded through yellow to green.

Stoneheart, a ten foot golem of rocks golden rocks, the glowing yellow eyes the only hint that a person was underneath.

Dessinateur, with his purple skin and orange hair tucked under a black beret. He was dressed in black and white stripes, fading into pure black as they made their way down his arms and legs, and turning to the orange of his hair as they reached his hands and feet, and his dark mask was jagged around his eyes.

Reflekta, her bright pink dress flaring from her waist around to her knees. The rest of her suit, while still bright pink, was slick, her sleeves and gloves attached, and the material on her legs running down and around her feet, ending in sharply pointed heels. The tips of her fingers were just as sharp, standing out in a bright green that swirled its way up her arms, and the skirt was adorned with peacock feather eyes. Her face was a deathly white, a pink, bubbly mask circling her eyes. Her lips were purple and her eyelashes the same green as her nails. Her dark hair was pulled up in two thick buns, the purple streaks in her bangs matching her lips.

Princess Fragrance, with her green skin and pink eyes, her black mask swirling across her face. Her pink hair was pulled up in a bun on the top of her head, a black flower blooming around it and black streamers blowing from the centre. Her black suit stretched from her neck down to her fingers and toes, poofing out at the sleeves. Pink swirling designs swept across it, cumulating in a rose shape at her hip, her scent gun attached at the centre.

Horrificator, with her purple dreadlocked tentacles flowing from her head. A dark purple mask framed her three yellow eyes, and her closed lips hid pointed teeth. Her suit began at her neck, pink in colour and scaly in texture, turning dark purple by the time it reached her hands and feet and the tip of her tail. Her long tail swung behind her, the end doubling as a grappling hook and a whip.

Gamer, in all his cyborg glory. The right half of his face was metal and his eye a green, glowing circle. A green pointed mask framed it and his other, human eye. His left arm was also metal, granting him the ability to shift it into whatever kind of weapon or tool was needed, and his robotic right leg was equipped with jet propulsion, another attached to his suit on the other leg, allowing him to fly. The non-metal parts of his body were suited in black, with jagged green patterns circling him.

And lastly Puppeteer, the youngest AKUMA at barely five years old. Her black ponytails were tipped with an icy blue, and her dress was reminiscent of a princess’s, with poofed sleeves and skirt in black, grey, and the same icy blue. Her arms and legs we clad in black, to the tips of her fingers and toes, and she held a black and blue wand in her hand. Her voodoo dolls hung around her waist, waiting to be named and used against someone. Her skin was a grey-ish purple, and her eyes were framed in a large black mask that covered most of her cheeks and forehead.

Facing their friends were the two opposing forces. Ladybug, dressed in her red and black polka dotted unitard and matching mask, her hair pulled into dark pigtails and her yo-yo strapped to her waist, stood with Chat Noir. Her partner was wearing his black leather cat suit, the pointed claws, belt tail, and cat ears making a clear statement as to the origins of his name. His mask made his eyes glow green, with the slitted pupils of a feline. Separate gloves and boots rounded out the look, along with the bell attached to the collar of the suit. He was also the only AKUMA with pockets, a fact which made a lot of others jealous.

Their opponents stood opposite them, ready to fight.

Lady Wifi’s suit was black. White gloves rose to her elbows, and white boots to her knees. Her phone was clipped to her thick white belt, and a glowing pink wifi symbol sat on her chest. Her mask was dark purple, and her auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

Bubbler was all bright colours. His skin was bright blue, and his eyes were rimmed in black. His suit was red and sleek, dotted with yellow and blue spots. Two belts, one blue and one yellow, hung around his waist. Below them, his suit was black, as were his gloves and the bottom of his boots. The tops of his boots were striped in three colours: yellow, then blue, then red, ending just below his knees. His dark hair rose in spikes, tipped in red. Two swords were sheathed in yellow across his back.

Heartbreaker’s black feathered wings were edged with red, a red and black quiver filled with matching arrowed slung across his back. His jagged red mask was rimmed with black, and his dark hair came to a lighter brown point at the front. His suit started red, with black gloves reaching his elbows in a jagged fashion. The red of his top met the black of his pants in a similar fashion, as did his red knee-high boots. The bow that was held in his hands was mostly white, red and black spikes at each end.

And finally Vanisher. The slight girl’s orange hair was pulled back with a pink sparkly headband. Her dress was made of the same pink sparkles, stretching down her arms and over her fingers, and flowing out around her knees. Her eyes as well were rimmed with pink sparkles, her mask stretching out in swirling patterns around her face. Her boots were solid sparkles until about her knees, where they then gradually tapered off until sparkles dotted her thighs. A thick blade with a sparkly handle was strapped to her back.

These were the AKUMAs, Papillon’s champions in his quest to conquer the world. Sixteen teenagers and one child, clothed in brightly coloured costumes and playing hero.

“Got it?” Queen Bee asked, popping her hip. Everyone had it, of course. They’d been playing these games during their free training periods since they were younger than even Puppeteer.

“Can’t we just go, Queenie?” Wifi whined, her fingers twitching at the phone at her side. “We all know how this works.”

Queen Bee pouted, the top of her mask pushing down as she scrunched her eyebrows beneath it. “Whatever, Bunny Ears,” she snarked. “Let’s do this.”

The six competitors watched as their friends walked towards the viewing room. It was where Tikki and Plagg, or sometimes Nooroo or Papillon himself, would watch on the cameras as they played the game, where they’d analyze their movements and decide on a reasonable punishment for the losers. Today, it was where the other AKUMAs would watch, where they’d judge the kills and cheer them on. As it was a free training match, no punishments would be doled out to the losers, though the trainers and Papillon would no doubt be going over the tapes later, if not as they competed.

Queenie’s voice was projected over the city. _“You have ten minutes to scatter and plan your attacks. Good luck everyone, and let’s go Ladybug!”_

*********

_“Three. Two. One. Game on!”_

Ladybug and Chat scaled the side of the Notre Dame replica. The fight wouldn’t be difficult. Find the others and take them out one by one. Wifi would be easy as long as they avoided technology. Bubbler had his bubbles and his swords, but was generally not too difficult to beat. If they kept out of the way of Heartbreaker’s arrows and managed to get a hold of his bow, he was basically done for. Vanisher was the wild card. Her skill with her sword was good enough that she had beaten Chat’s baton in training on occasion, and her invisibility allowed her to sneak up on them. Once she was visible, though, her hand to hand combat was lacking.

“See anything, Kitty?” Ladybug asked. A flash of red in the distance caught her attention, and she pointed it out. “Looks like they’re by the Tower.”

Chat lengthened his baton to the ground and held out his hand to Ladybug. “What do you think about stargazing tonight, my Lady?” he asked as they descended.

“Sounds like a plan.” Ladybug grinned at him, jumping away when they hit the ground. “Let’s go kick some ass.”

*********

They met up with Bubbler and Heartbreaker a few minutes later. Wifi had cornered off an alley with crashed up cars and downed powerlines, the sparks flying high in the air. Ladybug and Chat knew that she and Vanisher would be somewhere near, so they kept on the lookout.

They dodged an arrow that came their way, diving out of the way of the following explosion. With a nod from Ladybug, they moved into their attack.

Dodging and beating away the onslaught of bubbles and arrows, Ladybug and Chat slowly made their way towards their attackers.

“Cover me!” Ladybug yelled, and Chat flipped in front of her, his baton spinning against the attack. She threw her yo-yo in the air. “Lucky Charm!”

She grinned at the object that landed in her palms, Chat chancing a glance back and letting out a whoop of joy.

“Stick it to ’em, Bug!” he cried as she flipped over him. They were close enough to Bubbler now that it only took a couple of well-aimed handsprings to land beside him. A moment later, the stream of bubbles stopped and Bubbler’s mouth was covered in polka dotted super tape. He shot her a glare, his fingers rising to pull at the edges, though they both knew it wasn’t going anywhere. Tikki had invented the tape a few years back, and it only came off with the antidote, and Ladybug was willing to bet that Lucky Charm wasn’t going to give her that.

“Looks like you’re in a sticky situation, eh Bubbles?” Chat called

Ladybug smirked at her opponent, who shoved her away before she could go in for the kill and reached for the swords on his back. She knocked his attacks away with her yo-yo as he backed her towards a wall.

Chat’s feet suddenly slipped out from under him, and he crashed into the ground. “Nice to see you, Vanisher,” he smirked. “Or, it would be. You know, if I could actually see you.”

“Give it a rest, Chat.” The words came from somewhere above him, and he kicked out, earning a cry for his efforts and the sound of metal hitting cement.

“Ha! I bet that’ll leave you sword in the morning!” he crowed, flipping to his feet and scooping up the bedazzled weapon—only for an unmanned car to send him sailing into Bubbler, knocking him away from his sword-on-yo-yo fight with Ladybug.

“Thanks, Kitty,” she called, picking Bubbler’s swords up off the ground.

“Not a problem, Bug.” Chat picked himself up, and the two turned to face the four attackers. Or, well, three. They assumed they were facing Vanisher as well, but you could never really tell.

They tossed their confiscated weapons into the electric wall of cars behind them, wincing at the backlash of sparks that came their way.

Bubbler, with his mouth taped shut, and Wifi, phone in hand, were standing at the open end of the street, Heartbreaker in the air above them. Vanisher was somewhere around them, and they needed to make her visible in order to stand a chance. Speaking wasn’t necessary as Chat stepped in from of Ladybug, his baton spinning wildly against the arrows and electricity coming their way.

“Lucky Charm!” Ladybug caught the spotted can of paint easily. The plan was straight forward enough. All they had to do was locate Vanisher.

Which was easy enough when she grabbed Chat in a chokehold. Not even a false neck snapping either. She just jumped on his back and wrapped her arms around his neck. Ladybug was suddenly happy that there were no punishments running on this, since Vanisher would be in for a big one at her sloppiness.

Ladybug dumped the can of paint, which turned out to be purple, on Vanisher’s head, some getting stuck in Chat’s hair. 

“Meow-ch, Bug. That was almost paint-ful.”

She rolled her eyes and grabbed onto the smaller girl by the neck, holding on just loosely enough so as not to choke her until Queen Bee’s voice rang out once more.

_“Vanisher is dead! Kill by Ladybug!”_

Ladybug released her hold and Vanisher dropped to the ground. The girl reappeared with a pout, purple paint dripping into her face. “Nice job, Ladybug,” she said, before darting back into the road to make her way to the viewing room. Or, as it turned out, to stand on the side of the street and watch.

They were down to three. Heartbreaker and Wifi were still with their full powers, and Bubbler was down to hand-to-hand combat, which he was good at.

Ladybug stepped to the side, her yo-yo coming up to block the arrows from charging her.

“Look out!”

She followed Chat’s command, jumping out of the way of a power line that had snaked down from the pile behind them, exploding in a blast of sparks where she’d stood a moment before. More lines slithered up behind Wifi from the next street over, like hissing snakes following a snake charmer. But with electricity. Which hurt.

“Ready to give up yet, Cat-Boy and Bug-Girl?” Heartbreaker called, swooping overhead. “We’re just getting started here.”

“You wish,” Ladybug shot back. “You might as well give in before we have you begging for mercy.”

Chat barely caught Wifi’s smirk before the electric snakes charged. The shocks that went through them as they batted them away hurt like hell, though they were nothing compared to the electric baths that came with some of the tests. Neither Chat nor Ladybug noticed when the arrows stopped coming until it was too late.

When Chat managed to glance up, Heartbreaker was already overhead, an arrow heading straight for ladybug.

“Watch out!” he cried, diving above her to take the hit.

Ladybug watched as Chat rolled away on the ground, wondering what type of arrow had been shot. It clearly wasn’t explosive. So was it a pain inducing one? Or a regular one? Or was it—

Chat stood up, the black of his lips confirming her fears. It was an intention swapping arrow, one that sent the recipient off on the opposite of whatever they’d been doing.

Three on two suddenly turned into four on one.

The power lines had backed away, and Heartbreaker had joined his teammates on the ground, waiting to see what she’d do.

Which was run.

She scaled the side of the building closest to her and sprinting across the rooftops. She had to put some distance between them. Bubbler was slow when he didn’t have a bubble to float on, and Wifi would have to take the roads, scanning through her phone for any technology to teleport through, which left her with Heartbreaker and Chat. It’d take Chat a few moments to orientate himself after the arrow, so hopefully she’d be able to take out Heartbreaker before anyone else caught up.

Luck was on her side, and she managed to rope herself a crow with her yo-yo, their momentum sending them over the edge of the roof and crashing into the side, Heartbreaker’s bow falling away.

Ladybug smirked from where she’d landed on top of him, grabbing one of the arrows that had fallen from his quiver—a normal arrow—and miming slamming it into his heart.

_“Heartbreaker is dead! Good one, Ladybug!”_

Heartbreaker grumbled as Ladybug pulled her yo-yo back, standing at the ready as Chat jumped down from the rooftop. Wifi pushed open the door to the building across the street, having teleported through an inside television with Bubbler and Vanisher—who still wanted to watch—in tow.

“You’re outnumbered, Ladybug,” Wifi taunted.

“I’ve been outnumbered this entire fight,” Ladybug reminded her. “And yet I’ve killed two of you and you’ve got none of us.”

“But we got Chat,” Wifi pointed out. “He’s as good as dead to you.”

A quick flip of her wrist, and the yo-yo knocked Wifi’s phone out of her hand, smashing against the concrete.

“Oh, come on!” She stomped her foot, crossing her arms to pout.

“Surrender, Bug,” Chat called, tossing his baton between his hands as he approached. “You can’t beat all three of us.”

Ladybug smirked, her yo-yo darting out to wrap around Bubbler and throwing him into Chat and making him drop his baton. While they were distracted, she retracted the line, darting in close to toss the weapon away.

“Well, that’s no fair,” Chat commented with a pout. “You’ve got your yo-yo and we’ve got nothing.”

“Fine.” Ladybug snapped the yo-yo back onto her waist, opening her arms wide. “You and me, Kitty. One on one. Bring it.”

“Sounds purr-fect.” Chat grinned, approaching Ladybug. She flipped forward, Chat blocking her kick to his abdomen, and suddenly they were in a dance. Wifi and Bubbler had joined Heartbreaker and Vanisher near the side of the road, waiting to see who would win.

The only AKUMA that could match Ladybug was Chat Noir, and the only one who could match Chat Noir was Ladybug. They worked so well together that they could anticipate the other’s move before they made it, making the fights long and tiring. Who won was always a tossup, whoever had more energy at that particular moment, or whoever managed to make a particularly strong attack.

This was one of the reasons why they were always paired together in the games, why one wasn’t sent on a mission without the other. Ladybug and Chat Noir belonged together. Against each other, neither could win. Apart, they made mistakes.

While Wifi talked strategy with her “dead” and mute teammates, Ladybug and Chat Noir’s fight carried on. Chat pulled a Cataclysm at one point, his hand missing Ladybug to swipe at the ground. The hole that opened up seemed bottomless, and they continued their dance around it.

Until one wrong move sent Ladybug tripping backwards over rubble, sprawling over the ground and bringing Chat Noir down on top of her.

He grinned down at her. “Looks like you’re out of luck, Bug,” he purred.

It happened in slow motion. One moment Chat’s claws were reaching to wrap around her throat. The next, Ladybug had pulled him down into a kiss.

They’d hypothesized about this for weeks, whether there was any way to get someone away from the hold of Heartbreaker’s arrows without killing them or having Heartbreaker break the bond. As a group, they’d tried different ways in the past, but never this.

Chat tried to pull back for a moment before he lost himself in the kiss, deepening it as they both pulled each other closer.

The AKUMAs in the viewing room burst into laughter. Queen Bee had had her finger on the intercom button, ready to announce Ladybug’s death, but they were now all collapsing on the floor.

The others watched with open mouths, unable to process what they were seeing. Chat was going in for the kill and now they were just lying there…making out?

Their voices returned after a few minutes, when the kiss was starting to get really heated.

“Hey!” Wifi yelled, approaching the couple with her hands on her hips. “Are you seriously making out in the middle of the game? I honestly can’t believe you.”

Chat and Ladybug pulled apart, flushing red, and that was when they noticed Chat’s lips had returned to their natural colour.

Heartbreaker spluttered. “What the hell?” he cried. “You broke the control by _making out_?”

Ladybug grinned at Chat as he pulled her to his feet, and she cracked her knuckles.

“Well?” she asked, turning to Bubbler and Wifi. “Are you just going to stand there staring, or are we gonna fight?”

*********

The fight was over in a few minutes, with a mimed slitting of Wifi’s throat with Chat’s claws, and by tossing Bubbler down the hole Chat had made, Ladybug catching him with her yo-yo before he sunk too far out of sight.

They regrouped with the others just inside the arena. Gamer was still wiping tears from his eye, and Princess Fragrance and Reflekta took one look at Chat and Ladybug before cracking up again.

“Shit, Wifi,” Chronogirl laughed, leaning against the girl. “I can’t believe it was four on two _and_ Heartbreaker got Chat _and_ Chat and Ladybug spent like five minutes making out and you _still lost_!”

Wifi rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go get dinner. I’m starved.”

Ladybug and Chat were still wrapped around each other, glowing in their success and the praises of their friends, as they walked back to the doors.

Ladybug pulled away from him, stepping into her small metal room and taking a deep breath. “Spots off,” she said, and the room listened, pulling her suit away and replacing it with her regular clothes. Her pigtails disappeared, and her hair hung loose again. The room didn’t take away the dirt in her hair, however, or the flecks of purple paint on her cheeks. That wasn’t how it worked. The suit repaired and cleaned itself between uses, but it didn’t take anything else with it. Not dirt or paint, or blood, or anything else that could be on their person when they changed.

Which was evidenced by the purple haired Chat that wrapped his arms around her as soon as she stepped out into the hallway.

“You need a shower,” she laughed, pecking him quickly on the lips and trying to pull away. His arms tightened around, pulling her closer.

“Want to join me?” His eyebrows wiggled in such a way that it undermined any seduction that could have been put forth by his tone.

“We’re going stargazing later, Kitty,” she reminded him, her arms moving on their own to wrap around his neck. “You can wait until then.”

Chat groaned, his head dropping down to rub against her neck. He then pulled out of her embrace with a smirk. “You need a shower now, too, Bug,” he grinned, darting off down the hall before she could reprimand him for turning her purple. “Come join me if you want!”

*********

Ladybug was laughing at a joke that Chrono told at dinner when she felt a tug on her arm. Puppeteer was looking up at her, a wonderstruck look on her face. Her skin had returned to its natural chocolate colour, and the blue had retreated from her pigtails.

“What’s up, Poppet?” Ladybug asked, smiling down at the small girl.

“Are you a princess?” she asked. “Or is Chat a prince? Cause Fray tells me stories sometimes, and the prince and the princess kiss and it’s true love and it breaks the evil spell. Just like today.”

Ladybug’s smile grew, and Chat planted a kiss on her forehead. “Bug’s definitely the princess,” he told Puppeteer. “There’s no doubt about it. Maybe one day we’ll get a prince or princess in here for you to save with a kiss, huh Poppet?”

The girl giggled, scampering back to her seat by Princess Fragrance.

_“All AKUMAs, please report to the meeting room in twenty minutes.”_

A cheer filled the cafeteria. There was only one thing going to the meeting room meant.

Wifi pumped her fist in the air. “We’re going on a mission!”

*********

The meeting room was dominated by a large wooden table with seventeen chairs. Though Puppeteer hadn’t had enough training to head out on a mission, she was still able to attend the meetings.

At the head of the table was a projection screen, with three chairs off to the side where Agents Plagg, Tikki, and Nooroo would sit, though they had yet to enter.

Ladybug sat to the right of the screen, with Chat on her left, as they were the captains. Wifi and Bubbler sat opposite them, and the rest filed down, with Heartbreaker, Chronogirl, Horrificator, Stoneheart, Reflekta, and Princess Fragrance on Chat and Ladybug’s side, Queen Bee, Vanisher, Gamer, Climatika, Volpina, and Dessinateur on Wifi and Bubbler’s side, and Puppeteer opposite the screen.

As they waited for the trainers and Papillon to arrive, the AKUMAs speculated on the nature of the mission. Papillon had been going on about how they were almost ready for the Big Mission, the one that would allow them to take back France from those who were destroying it. Could this be it?  
They stood as Papillon walked in, the agents following behind and heading to their seats. Papillon gestured at them to sit.

Dr. Jean Papillon didn’t look like the evil mastermind the world made him out to be. He was tall and thin, always dressed in a dark purple suit that never seemed to wrinkle or move out of place. His blond hair was always styled just so.

He didn’t look like an evil scientist, even though the world thought he was. The news said he was, but the AKUMAs knew that those were lies, spewed out by MIRACULOUS, who had taken over every government and brainwashed the world.

His gaze gave away nothing about the upcoming mission as he looked over the AKUMAs.

“Ladybug, that was fantastic work in the games today,” he said, his stare landing on her.

“Thank you, sir.” The girl in question sat up straighter.

“How did you think of kissing him?”

She stole a glance at Chat. “Well, you see, sir, Chat and I have been discussing it for a while, since we seem to have some sort of connection that none of the others have. Like how we heal faster together, and how our powers seem to affect each other’s, to an extent. So we decided that maybe skin-to-skin contact would help in this case as well, and, while we’re suited up, there’s not a lot of skin available. Hence the kiss.”

“We don’t know whether that’d work for anyone,” Chat added, “sir, so we’d have to test that out. But Bug and I are fairly confident that if that worked with us against Heartbreaker’s arrows, it could work against Poppet’s dolls as well, and possibly even Fray’s scents.”

“Interesting,” was all Papillon had to say. “We’ll have to test your hypotheses.”

He went through the rest of the AKUMAs, addressing something each of them had done well or poorly at in the last few days, before, finally, they reached the topic at hand.

“There will be a mission this weekend. We will be taking down a major MIRACULOUS base, so we will need all of you in the field.” Puppeteer raised her hand. “Except you. You still need more training, though I’m sure MIRACULOUS won’t know what hit them when you make your debut.” That seemed to satisfy the girl, who leaned back in her too-large chair to listen.

Papillon picked up the remote, clicking a button and a logo appeared on the screen. “Gabriel,” he said, “is the biggest fashion line in France. Headed by Gabriel Agreste, they are known throughout the world, and respected. However, the fashion empire, while quite real, is also a front.

“Gabriel is one of the biggest MIRACULOUS bases in Europe.” He clicked a slide, showing photos of the outside of a mansion and pictures of models. “Everyone who works for them is a MIRACULOUS agent, from the designers to the models and everyone in between. It’s quite clever, really.

“From our latest estimates, it seems there should be about a thousand agents in the building when we strike, plus whatever they call in for backup.”

“So it’ll be easy, then?” Heartbreaker confirmed, sharing a fist bump with Chrono.

“Not exactly.” Papillon let out a breath, flipping slides once more. “Every single one of these people will be highly trained agents. This isn’t attacking a concert full of thousands of untrained civilians. Every person at Gabriel will fight back, and they will fight back well. You cannot drop your guard no matter how easy you think this mission will be. Distraction could very well mean death.”

He paused, clicking to a new slide. “You’ll head out this Saturday. The mission is to terminate every last agent, and then tear the place to the ground.

“Chat Noir?” The boy in question pulled himself away from Ladybug’s neck, looking down the table at Papillon. “Have you listened to a word I’ve said?”

“Yes, sir.” Chat nodded, stretching back in his chair. “The Gabriel fashion empire is really a fashion empire but also isn’t because it’s also MIRACULOUS—which is a ridiculously long acronym, by the way. What does it even stand for?—and we’re going to take them down next weekend.”

Papillon looked distinctly less impressed with Chat’s ability to give a hickey and listen at the same time than Bubbler or Heartbreaker. “I’d like it if you could keep your attention on me rather than Ladybug next time.” Papillon phrased it as a suggestion, but everyone knew it wasn’t. Ladybug shot her partner a look, since they both knew he’d likely be punished if it happened again.

“I have a special task for you, Chat Noir.” Eyebrows rose around the room. Chat got told off and then was receiving a special task? That never happened. “I want you to take out Gabriel Agreste.”

Chat Noir offered the man a two fingered salute and a grin. “Yes, sir.”

*********

Ladybug and Chat were dressed in track pants and sweat shirts when they knocked on the door to Tikki’s office later that night. When the woman opened the door, her usual lab coat was missing and her mascara was smudged.

“Are you okay?” Ladybug asked, pulling away from Chat to comfort her trainer.

Tikki waved her off. “I’m fine,” she said. “Just watching a sad movie. Now, what’s up?”

Chat’s arms found their way around Ladybug’s waist again, and she leaned back into him. “We were just wondering if we could have permission to go stargazing out of costume tonight?”

The kids looked so hopeful that it almost brought Tikki to tears again. Was that really all they had to look forward to? The possibility of going outside without their costumes?

“Well,” she started, but Plagg’s hand landed on her shoulder.

“C’mon, Tikki,” he said. “Let them have a little fun tonight.”

Tikki nodded approval, and Ladybug and Chat let out a whoop.

“Thank you, Tikki! Thank you, Plagg!” Ladybug called, hopping onto Chat’s back with their large basket. The boy then took off down the hallway, both laughing away.

“I can’t believe him,” Tikki muttered, turning back into the office and closing the door. Plagg had returned to his perch on her desk. “I can’t believe he would specifically tell Chat to kill him.”

“He’s done this before,” Plagg pointed out.

Tikki shook her head, turning to the screens to watch as the kids scampered out of the building. “Not like this. With the Bourgeois, he didn’t specify that Queen Bee had to kill any of them.” She let out a sigh, sinking into her chair, the tears falling once more. “I honestly can’t believe he’s reached this level of evil.”

Plagg shifted awkwardly on the desk. It wasn’t that he agreed with Papillon. No, the man was a dick and this was a dick move, making Chat kill his father. But Plagg was just really awkward around crying people, especially Tikki. So he reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, patting just as awkwardly and hoping it was making a difference.

*********

The edge of the forest was Ladybug and Chat Noir’s favourite place. There were no cameras and no microphones, and they could say and do whatever they wanted without anyone finding out.

Their clothes had been lost a while ago, back when they first emerged, and they now lay wrapped up in a half dozen blankets, curled around each other and staring up at the stars.

They had no worries as they pointed out constellations. No tests to fret over. No upcoming mission that would leave scarring consequences. Just each other. They were cuddled up to their best friend, the night going on around them without a care as they worked off the side effects of the injections and ate the last of the cookies they’d stolen from the kitchen.

They should head back inside, really, though it wasn’t like anyone was wondering where they were. The chips in their arms ensured that. But it wouldn’t be the first time they fell asleep outside, and it wouldn’t be the last. Sure, the others would make fun of them in the morning, but they didn’t really care.  
Ladybug let out a yawn, curling closer to Chat and burying her face in his neck.

“Night, Kitty.”

“Night, Bug. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

…

“Ow! You actually bit me!”

"I warned you, Kitty."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a lot happened in this chapter. We got some insight on the AKUMA abilities, particularly Ladybug and Chat Noir’s, and we got the rematch (and I kind of went off about the AKUMAs’ costumes but we’ll come back to that), and we got the Heartbreaker kiss, and we got a mission, and some stargazing.
> 
> First off, I’m sorry. Papillon is a dick. He knows exactly what he’s doing and how heartbreaking it’ll be to Chat if he finds out. So I’m sorry. I’m also not, because, you know, plot, but yeah.
> 
> I was just going to leave this at Chat accepting his assignment, but I figured that might be mean and I decided to add in the stargazing scene. So you’re welcome for that.
> 
> Second off, I know I changed a lot of AKUMA costumes. Most of them are still the same with maybe some minor differences, but some of them just didn’t go with the theme I was going for (IE Reflekta, Princess Fragrance, Horrificator, and Bubbler), and we did some big ish changes to Chronogirl, and I turned Gamer into a cyborg because why not (although I’m now thinking that that probably means that Papillon personally carved away his flesh and added the robot parts which I kinda don’t want to think about tbh). I also invented a costume for Queen Bee because I wasn’t going to just have Chloe be Antibug because that would be too close to Ladybug for this and I invented one for Vanisher since she didn’t really have one except being invisible so I decided to sparkle her up.
> 
> (also if anyone wants to draw these costumes, be my guest because I totally would except I suck at drawing people. just send me the link to them because I’d love to see them)
> 
> (I also slightly changed some of the powers but I’m not going to explain that here)
> 
> Third of all, after writing Papillon in that scene I can totally see him spending hours making power points of the missions with like clip art and slide transitions and the whole show.
> 
> Fourth of all, nicknames. It’s kind of awkward for everyone to call each other by their AKUMA name all the time since they’re kind of long and weird so I figure a lot of them would have nicknames that everybody calls them. Like Poppet for Puppeteer and Fray for Princess Fragrance and Queenie for Queen Bee. Heartbreaker also has like a million nicknames for everyone.
> 
> Fifth of all, I’ve decided we’re going with a Ladybug crazed Chloe in this story rather than an Adrien crazed Chloe. Just if you haven’t figured that out.
> 
> Sixth of all, mutations. Some of the AKUMAs have mutations all the time out of costume. Heartbreaker and Queen Bee have their wings. Gamer is still a cyborg. And Horrificator has her third eye and her tail. That's it. Everyone's skin and hair and everything else goes back to normal.
> 
> Seventh of all, it’s my nineteenth birthday this Sunday. That has nothing to do with this story, I just thought I’d point it out.
> 
> I think that’s about it. There’s a lot of notes at the end of this one, wow. Again, sorry that Papillon is a dick. Let me know what you think! Comments are life and hit me up on Tumblr at im-not-voldemort. Thanks for reading! :D


	4. All the King's Horses and All the King's Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The AKUMAs have a week to prepare for the mission at the Paris MIRACULOUS headquarters. Will everything run smoothly, or will unexpected circumstances lead to the AKUMAs' downfall?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I’m sorry that this chapter took so long. It was hard to write, and not the part that you’d think would be hard to write. I think I rewrote most of this chapter…six times? I think that was how many. Life was crazy too, so yeah. It took a while. But I'm finally done and I think I'm happy with it.  
> Second of all, I learnt that I suck at minigolf. I got my ass kicked by a bunch of fourteen year old boys at my little brother’s birthday party today and I’m still not over it.  
> Third of all, my entire house is currently being repainted. My bed is in the living room, which is a lot of fun when your entire family is morning people and come in to watch TV while you’re still asleep. Super fun.  
> I don’t really have a fourth of all. I didn’t really have a second or third of all either, at least not relevant ones, anyway, but you can’t really have a first of all and then not have anything after that, so. You know.  
> Please enjoy and let me know what you think!  
> Comments are life and asks are golden! :)

“I mean, honestly, this mission’s going to be a breeze.” Queenie punctuated her statement with an eye roll and a perfect toss over her shoulder, the dagger sinking into the neck of her mannequin opponent. “I don’t know why they’re making us work so much to prepare for it. One thousand is a piece of cake.”

“That’s not the point,” Climatika argued, tossing Volpina over her shoulder and following the girl to land with a knee to the chest and a fist to the face. “They’re all trained MIRACULOUS. I mean, yeah, we can beat them no problem, but it’s not like the last mission. It’s not like we’re taking out a stadium of brainwashed civilians who don’t know how to fight. They’re going to fight back, and it’s going to be fun, yeah, and we’re totally going to beat them, but we gotta watch our backs. There’s a lot more of them than us and, if we’re not careful, they could do some actual damage.”

Volpina flipped them over, her arm pressing into Climatika’s neck as she grinned through her bloody and broken nose. “Don’t tell me you’re scared, Snowy.” The girl snorted, though her rapidly blueing face muffled the effect. “Two of us could take on a thousand in our sleep and come out on top.”

Climatika flipped herself up, sending Volpina flying into Queenie, which in turn knocked her dagger off course, the knife soaring towards the back of Wifi’s head, the only thing stopping it from hitting its unintentional target being the Chrono who appeared out of thin air and tackled Wifi before disappearing once more.

_“This is a reminder that powers are not to be used outside of the arena. Chronogirl, this is your second infraction. Three infractions will result in a punishment.”_

“Nooroo! Dude!” Chrono cried in outrage from the top of the rock wall. “She would have died! Alternate-Timeline-Me just saved Wifi’s life, and you’re threatening to punish me?”

Queenie shot a glare at Climatika, pushing herself to her feet and dusting herself off. Climatika ignored Volpina’s offered hand, choosing instead to tuck her hands under her currently blonde head and sigh.

“I’m not scared, Pina,” she insisted. “I’m just stating the facts. They’re not AKUMA but they’re still a threat. It’s a thousand or more to sixteen. Theoretically, things could get bad.”

“Theoretically, Chat could break up with Ladybug.” Queenie rolled her eyes again, spinning in a circle and sending a handful of knives flying at various targets. “Theoretically, the sky could open up and rain lava. Theoretically, Papillon could be lying to us about everything. They’re all about as likely to happen. We’re going to kick this mission’s ass, and be back in time for dinner.”

“We better be back for dinner,” Heartbreaker seconded, shooting an arrow at Chrono. The girl dropped from the wall with a backflip, landing squarely on Stoneheart’s back and sending the large boy to the ground. “Saturday’s spaghetti night.”

Since the news of a new mission the day before, the AKUMAs had been thrust into training and preparations. They were excused from tests for the week, all of their energy being concentrated towards being at their very best for the mission.

Monday morning was filled with free-training. The training room was large—though nowhere near as large as the arena, which held a life-sized replica of Paris. The high walls were lined with hand and footholds, and targets and mannequins dotted the floor. Racks of equipment similar to those they received while in costume were placed strategically around the room, though the point of free-training was to master skills their powers didn’t grant them. Hand-to-hand combat. Acrobatics. Weapons skills. That kind of thing.

Most of the time, training was scheduled. Lately, however, Tikki and Plagg had been throwing in a lot of free-training. Their kids were getting older, and there wasn’t much new they could teach them.

Free-training, however, wasn’t quite as structured as the agents had hoped. More often than not, someone ended up with a major injury, and, quite regularly, Chrono ended up racking up power warnings from stopping the worst from happening.

But, generally, it was a good investment. The AKUMAs could let off steam, and feel like they were getting a break from their usual training.

Princess Fragrance dropped out of the sky, executing a perfect roll in her landing and taking Reflekta down. Puppeteer’s following drop was less perfect, though she managed to cling onto Dessinateur’s head like a spider monkey.

Chrono had left the rock wall to race Heartbreaker on the gymnastics course, the girl complaining loudly to Nooroo’s ever watching presence about why Heartbreaker was allowed to fly but she wasn’t allowed to save Wifi’s life.

Lady Wifi had gotten over her near death experience, and was engaged in a sword battle with Vanisher, the latter correcting her form.

Gamer shot darts from within his metal arm at targets, the mannequins steaming as the acid eroded their bodies.

Bubbler and Chat Noir were locked in some sort of close combat wrestling match that was further from actual training and closer to just rolling around on the floor latched onto one another. Their forms were terrible, and they crossed the room every few seconds, knocking over people and equipment alike.

Ladybug rolled her eyes, jumping into the air to avoid being taken down, before resuming her archery practice with Horrifiator and Stoneheart. Heartbreaker had been giving pointers, but Heartbreaker wasn’t big on helping. Honestly, his helping was poking fun at them and sabotaging their efforts than actual help.

Volpina and Climatika were continuing their own sparring, which was a lot more structured than Chat Noir and Bubbler’s. Queen Bee had abandoned her daggers, joining in the battle to make it a confusing mess of one on one on one.

“Honestly, Kitty, you’re going to get someone killed.” Ladybug jumped again as Chat and Bubbler tumbled through once more, the arrow she had ready to shoot flying off and narrowly missing Heartbreaker’s head. “Poppet acts more mature than you two.”

Chat underlined her point by sticking out his tongue and pulling Bubbler into a barrel roll directed at a lineup of dummies, the pair knocking them over like bowling pins.

 

*********

“So this Henri Gorille guy used to be a marine.” Wifi sipped on her protein shake, flipping through the open file in front of her. “He’s massive. Like, I’m pretty sure he gives Nooroo a run for his money. Maybe even transformed Stoneheart.” She readjusted her glasses. “Not the point. Okay. He quit the marines nineteen years ago to supposedly go into fashion design and joined up with the Agrestes. He’s Agreste’s right hand, which means he’s probably the number two in their MIRACULOUS faction. He used to have a wife and three daughters, but they all died in a house fire just after he started working with Agreste.”

She continued on, outlining the important points of Gorille’s life, as well as his combat skills. Ladybug, Chat, and Bubbler filed the information away, each of the four already planning the best ways to beat and kill the man, and how to use his family’s deaths against him should they find themselves facing him at a moment where taunts could disarm him.

Wifi finally reached the end of the file, shutting it once more and cracking her fingers. “One of you losers can read now,” she told them, flicking her wrist as she leaned back in her chair and took a long sip from her drink.

They were in the classroom. That’s what the AKUMAs called it, anyway. When Nooroo told them to head there, it was addressed as Lab 12. But the AKUMAs dubbed it a classroom, because kids on TV always had to go to class. Class was where you learned things. They’d learned reading and writing and math and science there, too, but they’d stopped a couple years back. Tikki and Plagg said they’d learned everything they needed to, and that Papillon would start up lessons again if he ever felt they needed them. So it was only Puppeteer that went to class now, one on one lessons from Tikki or Plagg every few days.

Mostly the classroom was used to brief before missions. Papillon wanted the AKUMAs to know everything they possibly could about their marks before they went out. For safety reasons, mostly. What good would it be for them to walk into a situation where they underestimated their opponents?

The strengths and weaknesses weren’t the only things the AKUMAs memorized, though. No, they learned everything there was to learn about the opponents that Papillon deemed important, the ones who had a large part in the brainwashing or who generally had a lot of influence. Those were the ones whose deaths they were supposed to draw out to punish them for what they did to the general public, the ones they were to taunt with their dirty little secrets.

Most of the files for this mission detailed the histories of models, designers, and photographers. The AKUMAs memorized their skills and weaknesses and placed them to their faces. But there were four that stuck out as the leaders, Gorille included, their strengths far outweighing those of their members.

“Nathalie Sancoeur,” Bubbler read. He leaned heavily against the table, the fist under his head the only thing keeping it from falling. He and Wifi had gone stargazing the night before, and hadn’t returned until breakfast. Ladybug was fairly certain neither had gotten much sleep. “Executive director of models and modelling. I’m not totally sure what that means, but she’s basically Agreste’s left hand. Her parents were killed on a MIRACULOUS mission over thirty years ago, and her brother on a different mission in 1992. It doesn’t look like she has any other family. Woah. It says she’s trained in jiu-jitsu, aikido, three styles of karate, musangwe, and hapkido, and with an absurdly long list of weapons. Katana, nunchucks, mace, the list goes on. You can read it. This chick is intense.” Bubbler read through the rest of the file, informing the others on anything he deemed important, and then tossed it onto Gorille’s. “Your turn, LB.”

Ladybug nodded, opening the file in front of her. “Vincent Barsetti, head of the photography department. He has a wife and four sons, who still live in Italy. He splits his time between MIRACULOUS and his home in Italy, but he’ll be in Paris on Saturday. His specialty is the cross bow, but he also used to work in an underground fight ring, so his combat skills are up there too.”

“So what’s up with Agreste?” Bubbler asked after Ladybug read through the rest of the file, turning his sleepy gaze on Chat. “What’s so special about him that Papillon gave your hickey sucking ass a special mission to take him out?”

Chat shrugged, flipping open his file. “You mean besides the fact that he runs one of the largest known MIRACULOUS factions?” He pondered for a moment, scanning the page. “Agreste used to have a family. His two year old son Adrien was kidnapped from a fashion show just over sixteen years ago and hasn’t been seen since. His wife, Adele, was found dead two years later in what was ruled a suicide.  “Doesn’t look like Agreste has any remaining family, and he hasn’t gotten into any serious relationships since his wife’s death. He must be pretty organized though. Somehow he can run his faction and spew out a high-end clothing line every four months.”

He continued on, listing the seemingly endless ways in which Gabriel Agreste was trained. He didn’t seem to have any emotional weaknesses, though, besides his wife and son. Chat filed that information away. It could end up being useful if his meeting with Agreste wasn’t rushed.

 

*********

When Angelique Tikki and Edwin Plagg left the military to help in Papillon’s crusade, they never expected to be raising a band of children. But that was what happened. From the moment Nooroo had snatched little Marinette Dupain-Cheng from the park, they had become parents. Parents of an increasing number of illegally obtained superpowered assassin children, but parents none the less.

Honestly, Tikki had expected Plagg to at least propose before they had kids, but beggars can’t be choosers. They loved the AKUMAs as though they were their own, and the only thing they’d trade them for would be to keep them out of this whole mess and have them home with their families.

Unfortunately, only Chronogirl could time travel, and even she couldn’t go back more than a few minutes.

They stood at the front of the classroom, watching the kids happily read through files and memorize information. It wasn’t right. Tikki didn’t understand Papillon’s logic. It was cruel enough to make them do this in the first place. Why should they have to learn to taunt people’s pasts in front of them to make them break?

She sighed, leaning her head on Plagg’s shoulder. “We have to do something,” she murmured, too low for even the microphones to pick up. The only one they were in danger of having overhear their conversation was Chat, but the boy was too busy laughing at something one of his friends said to bother eavesdropping. “He’s getting worse, and soon no one will be able to stop him. We need to do something before it gets out of hand.”

“It’s already getting out of hand,” Plagg pointed out, his thin arms crossing in front of his chest. “With what he’s having him do tomorrow…” He trailed off, watching the boy he’d raised. He remembered when Chat first came out of testing, how he’d followed the man around like a shadow, copying his every move. Plagg didn’t know what he’d do when Chat would undoubtedly come bragging to him about how well he killed his actual father. “I can’t do this anymore, Ange. He’s getting close to taking France, and we can’t let him keep going. We need to stop him.”

Tikki nodded against him, but couldn’t say anything else because of the man who entered the room.

The AKUMAs scrambled to their feet at Papillon’s entrance, standing at attention. Tikki straightened up, her stomach twisting at the looks of adoration her children sent the disgusting man. This wasn’t right. None of this was right. She knew it from the moment they strapped Marinette to that table and started the tests.

No, if she was honest with herself, she knew before then, back when Papillon tortured their older volunteers. But she didn’t do anything.

Oh, how she wished she had.

Papillon gestured for the AKUMAs to return to their seats, and Nooroo walked into the room, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

“I assume you’ve made good progress on memorizing the contents of those folders.” Papillon’s eyes ran over the stacks piled haphazardly of the tables. “You’ll be heading out in the morning. Arrival time will be at nine a.m., which we’ve calculated to be the time when the most MIRACULOUS agents should be in the building.

“We want the element of surprise. Nooroo will be driving you to the outskirts of the headquarters to ensure that they don’t know you’re coming. Once inside, you will ensure that every agent has been eliminated. You will leave no survivors. Take as long as you need to confirm that no one is left.

“You’ve also had access to the building’s blueprints. There are most likely many secret passages not included on them, and I want you to find as many as possible. There may be agents hidden, and we can’t afford to miss them.

“Afterwards, I want no trace left of the Agreste mansion. Got it? Dessinateur, that’s on you. I don’t care how you do it, but I want the building gone. Understand?” Dessi nodded quickly, dozens of ideas already flitting through his head with ways to destroy the building.

Papillon clasped his hands in front of him, surveying the AKUMAs. “I won’t be here when you leave in the morning, but I wish you the best of luck.” He smiled. It was an eerie smile that had chilled Tikki to the bone from day one. “We’re getting closer to our goal. It’s only a matter of time before we can embark on the grand mission and take back France.”

 

*********

The doors to the Agreste mansion opened with a bang, Ladybug and Chat Noir leading the charge of AKUMAs as they stepped inside. The grand foyer was filled with dozens of people, some in suits with clipboards, others clearly models. They all froze as the AKUMAs filed in, staring in shock for one brief moment before the room descended into chaos.

People shouted, phones coming to their ears as they barked out warnings. Others pulled weapons out of nowhere, falling into formation as they awaited the imminent attack.

Ladybug caught Chat’s eyes and nodded, flicking her hand in a signal.

The fight began.

Queen Bee and Heartbreaker rose into the air, swooping over the agents in a flurry of daggers and arrows, the headquarters’ first line of defence dropping to the ground. Most remained down, but a few climbed back to their feet, turning on their fellow agents.

More people rushed out from hidden doorways, and the AKUMAs went on attack, hacking and sawing their way to the still-open secret passages until only Chat, Horrificator, and Volpina remained. It only took minutes to clear the entrance hall once more.

“Pina, take section three,” Chat commanded. “Riffy, you’re on the studio with Stoneheart and Bubbler.” He dropped into a catlike stance, facing down the group of agents streaming out from behind the Agreste family portrait at the top of the stairs. He recognized the man leading the charge from their studies. Henri Gorille. He smirked, nodding at the girls to leave. “I’ve got these ones.”

Volpina nodded and fled, Horrificator following suit in a moment later.

Chat called upon his Cataclysm, clenching his fist and grinning through the black light as the wall of people surrounded him. His claws slashed out as he spun, raking across faces and chests, across arms and weapons. He chuckled as they dropped, one by one, screaming faces blistering and burning, chests caving in as the bones fell apart, figures crumbling into dust. He smirked as the light faded, hardly sparing a glance at the fallen agents around him, some dead, others writhing in pain. They’d be finished after a few minutes of suffering, or someone else would come along and end their misery.

He stepped over one of the bodies, pausing to press the toe of his boot against the inverted chest of the still-wheezing agent, Gorille crying out as the AKUMA’s foot sunk into him with a satisfying crunch.

Chat scanned the foyer once more, smirking as he noted that he was the only one left standing. He pressed on, mounting the grand staircase, and went off in search of Gabriel Agreste.

 

*********

Ladybug was in some sort of hidden training room with Chronogirl, Dessinateur, Queen Bee, and Princess Fragrance. She’d wonder what a fashion company would need with a training room if she didn’t already know their secrets.

There were a few hundred people there, MIRACULOUS agents. They’d interrupted some sort of training session slash photoshoot for athletic wear or something. She wasn’t entire sure what was going on. The point was, there were a lot of agents and five of them.

It’d be easy.

Queenie flew off to the far side of the room in a flurry of daggers, agents dropping in her wake. Dessi pulled the tablet from his waist, an army of monsters appearing to flank him, giant swords and maces popping up in the air. A cloud of pink billowed out from Fray’s gun, snaking its way through the crowded room. Ladybug’s yo-yo spun in circles.

And then they attacked.

Ladybug flew through the masses of people, slicing out with her yo-yo. That was how it worked, their missions. Get the majority down first, and then they could have their fun.

She dodged a blow from a sword, ducking just a tad too late to evade it entirely. The blade clipped her forehead and she cringed, blood dripping into her eye. She flipped out her yo-yo, wrapping around her attackers arm and slitting their throat with their own weapon.

Everything was going smoothly, until one small thing sent everything crashing down. Everything was working as it had on hundreds of missions before, until someone was distracted. Everything was fine, until it wasn’t.

If the girl had seen the woman pull out a dart gun, she would have traveled back and pushed herself out of the way. If the girl had seen the dart gun, she wouldn’t have been hit.

But the girl didn’t see the dart gun, and the woman’s aim was what you’d expect from a model-slash-superhero-hunting-government-agent.

Chrono swore, ripping the dart from her neck. She swayed on her feet for a moment, before collapsing onto the ground. Queenie snarled at the MIRACULOUS agent that swarmed to pick up the other girl, a knife piercing his throat before he could even bend over.

This wasn’t new. It happened, on occasion, that an AKUMA would be disabled in some way and unable to fight. It was no big deal, really. It wasn’t like one less AKUMA would result in their downfall.

Until it did.

Chronogirl prided herself on her unique ability to save lives. She’d saved each of her fellow AKUMAs more times than they could count. Heck, she’d even saved her own life at least a few dozen times.

So it was fitting that the one time she wasn’t able to help would be the one time she was really needed.

Ladybug was surrounded, her razor sharp yo-yo string slashing through bodies, her fists and teeth aiding her when they got too close.

Queen Bee was hurling daggers at everyone, hovering as a guard over Chronogirl’s body.

Dessinateur scribbled on his tablet, dragons and horrific beasts tearing their way through the agents, weapons appearing from nowhere.

Princess Fragrance had pulled the gun from her waist, fumes enveloping her assailants, her other hand gripping a sword she’d found somewhere.

They were all caught up in their own fights, all too distracted to notice the man being pushed aside by a massive yeti. They didn’t notice as he tossed his own dart gun away, reaching into his waistband for a new weapon.

No one noticed him pull out the gun and aim.

Dessinateur didn’t make a sound as the bullet pierced his skull. He didn’t make a sound as he crumbled to the ground.

The battle paused for a long moment as MIRACULOUS agents and AKUMA alike watched the dragons and monsters and weapons fall, their creator no longer able to keep them animate.

The AKUMAs paused a moment longer because this wasn’t supposed to happen. They were indestructible. They were supposed to save the world.

They weren’t supposed to lie on the ground unmoving in a growing puddle of blood.

They weren’t supposed to die.

Ladybug blinked, her hand rising to pinch herself. She had to be dreaming. She had to be, right? There was no way that this could happen. MIRACULOUS was the bad guys, and the bad guys always lost. That’s what happened on TV, and that was what had happened since their first mission eight years ago. The good guys came and killed the bad guys and saved the world, and then they went home with their friends and lived happily ever after.

The good guys didn’t die. That wasn’t how the world worked.

Ladybug didn’t know what to do. Dessinateur couldn’t be gone. That wasn’t how it happened. That wasn’t how it worked.

But she knew what bullets did. She knew the odds of surviving one to the brain.

But this didn’t make sense.

Her eyes were fogging up in the way they only did after a particularly bad test. It didn’t make sense. She wasn’t the one who was hurt, so why were they doing that? The crushing weight on her heart didn’t make sense either. No one was choking her. She should be able to breathe.

She shook her head, pulling herself from her thoughts. She couldn’t do this now, whatever it was her brain was doing. The MIRACULOUS agents wouldn’t wait forever. She could try to figure out what was wrong with her body later.

Ladybug sunk back into stance, her yo-yo swinging menacingly by her side.

“What are you doing?” a female voice shrieked, breaking the silence that came with Dessi’s death. Nathalie Sancoeur shoved the man who’d shot the boy. “We have direct orders to _not_ kill them!”

“If we don’t kill them, we’re all going to be dead,” the man hissed back. His point was made a moment later when Princess Fragrance pounced, her fingers tearing open the agent’s throat.

 

*********

Gabriel Agreste tore into his office and hit the switch hidden on his name plate. Titanium plates dropped to cover all the entrances and exists to the headquarters and alarms blared. He reached for the phone, dialling the number he knew by heart. He listened to it ring again and again as he watched the screens that lined one wall, watched as agent after agent fell at the hands of children.

“Pick up, old man,” he muttered, searching the screens for the darkly clad boy he hadn’t seen in person in over a decade. His pleas were answered by a gruff voice.

“Gabriel, what is it? We’re in the middle of a meeting. One you were supposed to conference in for, I might add. What are you—”

“I don’t have time for this,” Gabriel interrupted, eyes still searching for the boy. “They’re here.”

Silence. And then “Who’s there?”

“The AKUMAs, Fu!” Gabriel hissed. His free hand ran through his hair as he watched the late president’s daughter impale a dozen agents with five times as many knives. “Papillon sent them here. All of them. We need backup.”

He listened to muted muttering on the other end of the line for a few moments before Director Fu’s voice returned. “We’ve sent out word. Backup will be there in an hour at most.”

“You don’t get it, Fu!” Gabriel’s hand went to his temple as he forcefully tore his gaze away from where the Scandinavian princess was gouging out Nathalie’s eyes. “They’re all here. All sixteen of them. We don’t have an hour. We need backup _now_.”

Fu was saying something, but Gabriel was distracted by the burning black light coming from the door.

“They’re getting into the office,” he said, interrupting the director again. “Get backup here. Now.”

Despite Fu’s protests, he hung up, crouching into an attack stance and trying to remember all the places he’d hidden weapons in the office. There was a sword strapped under the desk. The guns in the bookshelf. Something was in the chandelier, but he couldn’t remember what exactly it was. There were more, too, but now he was watching the door disintegrate, watching it crumble to the ground in a cloud of dust, so he pulled the sword from under the desk.

A figure emerged from the dust, and Gabriel lost the ability to breathe, his sword clattering to the ground. The word that fell from his lips was barely a whisper.

“Adrien.”

 

*********

Ladybug’s yo-yo wrapped around the man’s neck squeezing tighter and tighter until his head popped off and the weapon snapped back to her side. She looked around, wiping the blood from her eyes with the back of her hand and nodding to Reflekta, who stood on the opposite side of the room. She stepped over the bodies, making her way to the other girl.

“I think that’s all of them,” she said. A man near Reflekta pressed himself off the ground, barely rising before the girl’s sharp heel pierced his skull.

She smiled at Ladybug, retracting her foot and wiping the blood off her shoe on the man’s coat. “I saw Fray before I came up here, and she said they were just finishing clearing the main floor.”

Ladybug nodded, and the two girls made a quick trip around the floor once more, picking off a few stragglers who hadn’t yet succumbed to their injuries, before heading back to the front entrance. The others were gathered there already, and Ladybug forced her eyes away from Dessinateur’s limp form swung over Heartbreaker’s shoulders. A semi-conscious Chronogirl was leaning heavily against Horrificator, whose tail was wrapped around the smaller girl to keep her upright. Everyone was covered in blood and scrapes but Stoneheart, who stood slightly back from the others, a gasoline truck and a propane truck beside him. Usually when Papillon wanted them to destroy a sight, that was left to Dessinateur. But now…

“Everything’s clear.” Wifi approached Ladybug, who was staring back at the building. “We’re just waiting on Chat.”

Ladybug nodded. “We’ll give him a few more minutes,” she decided. “If he’s not out in ten, I’ll go find him.”

 

*********

The darkness faded from Chat’s hand as he paused, tilting his head in confusion. This was not how someone reacted to Chat Noir barging in. Usually there was a lot of screaming and running, or they’d try to fight back. The latter was what he’d expected from Gabriel Agreste, head of the Gabriel fashion company and the Paris headquarters of MIRACULOUS. Dropping a weapon and calling for his probably dead son? That was about as far from what Chat expected that you could get.

Scratch that. The hint of relief shining through the general horror in Agreste’s eyes? That was even more confusing.

They were there for a few moments, Agreste just staring at the intruder while Chat tried to figure out the man’s angle.

It was a weird angle, Chat decided. Like, really weird. People had frozen in terror before. It was common, actually, especially when they attacked somewhere public filled with average brainwashed zombies.

But Agreste wasn’t frozen in terror. Whatever the strange expression on his face, it definitely wasn’t terror. And even if he had frozen in terror, that usually happened before the weapon grabbing and the preparing for attack, not after.

So this didn’t make any sense. Why was Gabriel Agreste not attacking? He had the skill. He definitely had the skill. You couldn’t become the leader of a major faction of MIRACULOUS without having the skill. At least, that was what Chat assumed.

It didn’t matter, in the long run, whether Agreste attacked or not. Really, a lack of attack would make things easier. But Chat didn’t know what to make of the situation. It was strange.

He broke their absurd staring contest with a grin. He crossed the room in long strides, pushing the man against the wall, his arm pressing into his neck.  
Agreste still didn’t fight back.

No, he didn’t even look like he wanted to, only staring at the masked intruder as though he was seeing a ghost.

It was unnerving. Chat didn’t like it.

“I can’t fight you,” Agreste croaked, gasping for breath against Chat’s arm. His hands hadn’t come up to law at it, which was just another strange thing to add to the pile. As were the man’s words. Obviously Agreste could fight him. He’d spent the last week studying videos of Agreste’s fighting skills, and, from what he’d learned, it’d probably be a pretty good fight. Chat had been looking forward to it. He could use to let off a bit of steam.

But Agreste wasn’t fighting, and it looked like he wouldn’t.

It made no sense.

“Well, that hiss no fun,” Chat sneered, pressing harder in hopes of getting a reaction. He didn’t. “I always have a much more meow-velous time when you fight back. Otherwise, it’s paw-sitively dull.”

The man just stared at him, heaving in breaths when he could. “You have…her…eyes.”

Chat’’s grin dropped, his face scrunching in confusion. “What are you talking about?” he asked tilting his head. What was with Agreste? “I didn’t take anyone’s eyes today.” He grinned again, pushing away the strange vibe the man was giving him. “Of course, I could always start meow, if you’re claw-fur-ing.”

Agreste blinked, and it seemed the reality of the situation had finally hit him, his hands jumping up to loosely grasp Chat’s arm. “You don’t…have to…do this,” he pleaded. “You…don’t…have to…listen…to…Papillon.”

Chat barked out a laugh. “Really? Should I listen to mew instead? Should I listen to Gabriel Agreste, who was such a claw-ful father that he managed to lose his own son? Whose wife hated him so much for it that she killed herself? You think I should listen to you? Because, the way I see it, you’re the one who’s paws-ing out mission to save the world.”

Agreste’s eyes widened, though that could have been a symptom to his face turning blue. “That’s what…he’s…telling you?” he wheezed. “He’s tell…ing you…you’re…saving the…world?”

Chat released the man’s neck, and Agreste doubled over, gasping for breath. He gave him a moment to recover before bushing him against the wall once more, his hand pressing against his shoulder this time.

“Should he be telling us something else?” he wondered aloud, staring at the man. “Is that not what we’re doing?”

Agreste shook his head, his eyes pleading for Chat to understand. “You’re the ones destroying it.”

Chat had to laugh at that. “You’re funny,” he said, a grin stretching across his face. “It’s a shame I have to kill you.”

The man’s eyes widened for a moment, and Chat thought briefly that he’d finally fight back. But Agreste’s face looked resigned in the moments before he landed his shot.

“Adrien,” he whispered again, and Chat cocked his head.

“Looking for your son?” he inquired. “It’s a shame you let him disappear, Agreste, or he might have been able to save you.” He smirked, readjusting his hold. He’d stalled enough, and Ladybug would come looking for him soon if he didn’t reappear. “Any last words?”

For a moment, it seemed as though Agreste wasn’t going to say anything. His grey-blue eyes staring into Chat’s. Then he let out a breath, the words barely a whisper.

“I forgive you.”

Chat’s smirk faded in confusion for just a second as he stared at the man, before coming back in full. “Strange choice. But if you want to forgive me for killing you, I suppose that’s your decision.” He shrugged. “Nothing personal, Agreste.”

With that, his hand shot out, and Agreste screamed as claws sunk into his chest. Chat ignored the sounds of ribs cracking and splintering as his hand wrapped around his prize. With a yank, he pulled it from the man’s chest and held it up for him to see.

Gabriel Agreste hadn’t seen his son in person in over sixteen years. Not since Papillon had had the two year old taken from the crowd at a fashion show, sending anonymous pictures of the boy strapped into torture machines to Gabriel’s office. Then Adrien had all but disappeared, until Chat Noir was seen destroying France.

It had been sixteen years since Gabriel had seen Adrien face to face. If he had to pick the last thing he saw before he died, he couldn’t think of anything he’d rather it be than his son. But he could think of much better circumstances than this.

Because Gabriel Agreste’s last sight was his son, wearing a cat suit and grinning—and clutching his still bleeding heart in his hand.

He sunk to the ground a moment later, and Chat left the room, the heart resting on the desk next to a picture of Agreste and what must have been his wife, laughing at the camera, a baby with bright green eyes cradled in their arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.


	5. Ashes Ashes We All Fall Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fact that AKUMAs can be defeated comes as a shock to everyone, Papillon included. Ladybug and the others have to deal with the fact that death can affect them, as well as the consequences it brings, and Chat finds himself facing something he never thought he’d have to deal with. Doubts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! We’re back! Sorry it took so long. Apparently having like seven ongoing fics makes it a little hard to keep updates frequent. Don’t know why I did this to myself. I'm also back in school, which sadly doesn't leave a whole lot of time to write.  
> Anyway! AKUMA is back and it’s bigger and badder than ever. Probably not though. I think the last chapter was badder than this one in terms of heart-ripping qualities. This one’s a little (read: a lot) angsty though.  
> But without further ado, ProbablyVoldemort Corporations is proud to present the newest installment of The AKUMA Program!  
> Hope it was worth the wait :)

Warning bells sounded in Nooroo’s office as Dessinateur’s tracking device shut down. After dropping off the AKUMAs, he’d returned to the labs to monitor the mission, leaving them to wreak havoc on their way back.

But something was wrong. The devices weren’t supposed to turn off unless they took them out or….

Nooroo stared at the screens, monitoring the locations of the akumas in the Agreste mansion. Something was definitely wrong. Ladybug, Princess Fragrance, Queen Bee, and Chronogirl shouldn’t have been that still. Their dots should be moving far more than they were.

The bells were still going off when Papillon rushed in, Tikki and Plagg on his heels.

“What’s happening?” Papillon demanded, pushing back his usually smooth hair. He was disheveled, his shirt untucked and his jacket undone, but Nooroo didn’t mention it. It wasn’t his business what Papillon did with his spare time.

“I don’t know,” Nooroo said, staring at the flashing red screen, announcing that they could no longer track the AKUMA. “I think…I think we lost Dessinateur.”

Tikki stifled a gasp, gripping Plagg’s arm, and the four watched the remaining dots with mounting terror.

 

*********

Papillon stared at the body that Heartbreaker lay on the ground, the AKUMAs gathered around in confusion. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Dessinateur shouldn’t be dead. MIRACULOUS shouldn’t have been able to kill him.

He knew the way they worked, how Fu and Wayzz ordered their agents to fight. It was Agreste’s idea, originally, to use only non-lethal force on the AKUMAs. An idiotic idea, in the grand scheme of things, since it only made it that much easier for Papillon’s soldiers to take out their agents. He’d taken Adrien to mess with his old friend, to show him that no one would be safe, but the rewards had been even better than he’d imagined. Agreste refused to chance his son getting hurt, and, in doing so, had sentenced MIRACULOUS to failure.

So, in any outcome of this situation, Dessinateur should still be alive. None of the agents should have had real guns. Dessinateur shouldn’t be dead. His body shouldn’t be lying on the ground.

But it was.

Papillon didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The AKUMAs, they were supposed to be invincible. He hadn’t dealt with a loss since before Ladybug, since the failed experiments. These seventeen, these AKUMAs, they were supposed to be his ticket to victory.

They weren’t supposed to die.

He turned his back on the body, on the AKUMAs so confused by the concept that they were as fragile as the people they killed, on Tikki’s despaired wails and Plagg’s silent, devastated tears and Nooroo’s frozen bafflement. He turned and walked away, running a hand through his hair.

“Debriefing will begin in an hour,” he said, his voice steady despite everything. “Get yourselves cleaned up.”

 

*********

Chat’s breathing quickened as he stood at the sink, scrubbing his hands again and again. His suit had disappeared, but it didn’t take the blood with it. And it was everywhere, and it wouldn’t come off.

Something felt wrong. It was killing Agreste, he knew that. Something about Agreste had gotten into his head, and it was making him crazy. He scrubbed harder, but his hands and arms were still red with Agreste’s blood and his skin was turning raw and it wouldn’t come off.

What had Agreste been thinking? He hadn’t fought back, hadn’t even tried to get away. He’d just stood there and let Chat kill him, spewing nonsense and getting under Chat’s skin.

He scrubbed harder, his breathing coming in short pants, and his eyes stinging. And then he forgave him? Who even was Agreste, forgiving Chat? What the hell was that?

His hands were getting redder, and it seemed like the blood was increasing. His vision was fading, turning black at the edges from the inadequate amount of oxygen reaching his brain. He had to breathe, but he couldn’t because there was so much blood and he didn’t know why he was reacting like this but it wasn’t coming off and—

He froze as lips connected with his, and then his breathing started to even out. Ladybug pulled away, concerned eyes roving over his face, her thumbs caressing his cheeks.

“Are you okay?” she asked and he nodded. “Kitty, what’s wrong?”

Chat shook his head, pulling away and sticking his arms back under the flow of water, scrubbing harder than before. “It won’t come off,” he whispered. “Bug, the blood won’t come off. Agreste messed with my head, and now his blood won’t come off and I don’t know what to do.”

Ladybug pulled his hands away, cupping them in her own. Her eyes bore into his, blood still pooling from the gash on her forehead. She looked away, down at his hands.

“You got the blood off,” she sighed, and his eyes followed hers. “But you rubbed them raw, silly kitty. It’s your blood now.”

She let go with one hand, picking the cloth off her shoulders that she’d used to wash the blood off her own hands, gently rinsing away Chat’s blood. She picked up the first aid kit she’d dropped, pulling out lengths of bandage and wrapping them around his hands. His heartrate returned to normal as he watched her work, as she moved with her cloth up his arms and pasted on bandages where they were needed. It was all superficial, really, since his wounds would heal fairly quickly, but it calmed him.

She finished off, sticking a pink flowered bandage to his cheek, and smiled at him. “Better?”

Chat nodded, pulling the cloth from her hands and rinsing it off. “Your turn.” He finished cleaning the cloth, running it across her forehead, that being the only part she hadn’t cleaned herself. She winced at the contact, closing her eyes against the sting as Chat cleaned. He pulled sticky stiches from the kit, sealing up her forehead and covering it with a bandage. He finished his job with a kiss, planting it on the center of the bandage.

“All done,” he said, and Ladybug opened her eyes again, smiling at him for a moment before it fell.

“What’s wrong?” Chat asked, wrapping an arm around her and pushing away his issues with Agreste for the moment.

Ladybug shook her head. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “Since Dessi got hit, I just…I don’t know what I’m feeling, Chat. Something’s wrong with me. It feels like I’m being strangled and my heart hurts and I don’t know what this means.” She pressed her eyes closed, leaning her forehead against Chat’s chest. “I don’t know what’s happening to me, Chat.”

Chat’s arms tightened around her, holding her close. “Is he really…?”

He felt Ladybug nod against him. “I think they really killed him, Kitty,” she muttered, her throat closing around the words in that strange way it had been. “I think he’s actually dead. But he wasn’t supposed to die. We aren’t supposed to die. We’re supposed to save the day, but they killed him. It shouldn’t have been possible.”

Something that Agreste said came back to Chat. _He’s telling you you’re saving the world? You’re the ones destroying it._ He shook his head, pushing it away. Agreste was delusional. He brainwashed people into being mindless followers of MIRACULOUS, into destroying the earth and everything on it. He was just trying to get a rise out of Chat, trying to make him reconsider killing him. He shouldn’t let anything Agreste said get to him.  
So why was it so hard?

“Papillon will be able to fix it,” Chat assured Ladybug, rubbing his bandaged hands over her back. “He’ll be able to fix whatever you’re feeling and fix Dessi and everything will be okay.”

His words were filled with hope, with the knowledge that Papillon had never failed them before and he wouldn’t start now. Papillon would be able to bring Dessi back, because he wasn’t supposed to die, not like this, not ever. The AKUMAs were supposed to win and save the day. They were supposed to fix France and make everything better. So Papillon would fix what happened and everything would be okay.

And Ladybug. It was like something was suffocating her from the inside, trying to tear its way out. He’d be able to fix that, too, Chat knew. Papillon would make everything better, would put everything back the way it should be.

 

*********

_“Lady Wifi, can you describe what happened during the mission?”_

Papillon watched from the window as Nooroo debriefed the AKUMAs, Tikki and Plagg by his side. It would be faster, sure, to have the three of them debrief at the same time, but he didn’t entirely trust Tikki and Plagg, and they were far too soft, never pressuring the subjects to give an answer they didn’t want to give. They’d grown too attached to the  
AKUMAs when they were children, which was partially his own fault. He should have had them isolated, emotionless workers transitioned through, never around long enough for the subjects to attach to, or vice versa.

But that was an oversight he had to live with. It made debriefing three times as long as it could have been, but _Nooroo_ didn’t hesitate to pry, forcing the answers out of the AKUMAs.

 _“We reached the mansion, and Queenie and Heartbreaker eliminated any immediate threats,”_ Lady Wifi was explaining in the interrogation room. _“More agents came out, and we pushed through to the secret passages—”_

 _“What do you mean by pushed though?”_ Nooroo asked.

 _“We killed them. The headquarters was a great place for a fight,”_ Lady Wifi remarked. _“They had a lot of technology.”_

_“Where did you go after the lobby had been cleared?”_

_“Gamer and I were on security. After we took the security office, Gamer plugged into the system and downloaded all of MIRACULOUS’s information that the headquarters had. I used the vantage point to take over all the technology in the mansion. I opened the secret doors, and was able to keep the agents contained when necessary.”_ Lady Wifi paused, taking a deep breath. _“And I watched the agent pull out a gun. I was too slow to announce it, and I couldn’t control it because I was too far away. I watched on the screen as he shot Dessi.”_

Papillon watched as the girl stretched forward, wide eyes pleading with Nooroo.

_“You’re fixing him, right? He’s not really dead. Papillon’s going to give him some injections and he’s going to get better. Right?”_

Nooroo shuffled in his seat, leaning back as he stared down the AKUMA. _“I’m asking the questions, Lady Wifi. Now, what did you—”_

 _“No!”_ Lady Wifi pushed back from the table, her chair crashing to the ground behind her. The lights flickered overhead. _“No, Nooroo! I’m asking the questions now!”_

A couple of security officers ran up, looking to Papillon for approval to enter. The man raised a hand, silently commanding them to wait.

 _“Why did he have a gun, Nooroo?”_ Lady Wifi demanded, the red light above the door blinking on and off. _“He wasn’t supposed to—none of them were supposed to—he’s not dead, right? He’s not really dead? You can fix him?”_

Nooroo stood. _“I think we’ve gotten everything we need here.”_

 _“No!”_ Papillon and the others ducked as a computer screen behind them exploded in a shower of sparks. Lady Wifi was snarling at the agent, the large man all but cowering before the girl. _“We haven’t gotten everything we need! I need to know what you’re doing to fix Dessi! He needs to get better! You have to fix him, Nooroo! He can’t be dead! This wasn’t supposed to happen!”_

Another screen exploded, and Papillon waved in the security officers. They forced the doors open, and Papillon watched them subdue Lady Wifi, watched the girl slump to the ground as the anesthetic took effect.

“We need to talk to them,” Tikki insisted, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Papillon didn’t spare her a glance, watching the officers carry Lady Wifi’s limp body from the room. “This is going to mess them up, Papillon. They’ve never dealt with this before. They don’t even know that grief is something that happens.”

 _“What do you want me to do?”_ Nooroo’s voice came through the speakers, and Papillon’s eyes returned to the man. He’d straightened his shirt and taken his seat once more.

Papillon pressed a button. “We’ll send in the next AKUMA and proceed with the debriefings as scheduled.”

Tikki stepped forward, laying a hand on Papillon’s arm. “Jean—”

He turned a glare on her, registering her puffy red eyes. “We’ll be proceeding as scheduled,” he repeated. “I believe you need to take a breather, Angelique. Please return when you’ve regained control over your emotions and are ready to proceed as a professional. Edwin.” His eyes flicked briefly to Plagg, the man glaring daggers into his boss. “Go with her.”

Tikki’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “But, sir—”

“Go.” Papillon turned back to the glass, nodding to Heartbreaker as he was lead inside. After a few moments, he heard Tikki and Plagg’s footsteps leading away.

 

*********

It was much of the same, as the others were debriefed. Heartbreaker, Princess Fragrance, and Climatika had to be subdued and removed. Ladybug, Bubbler, Vanisher, Horrificator, and Stoneheart were in various stages of tears by the time they were dismissed. Volpina and Reflekta adamantly refused to even utter a syllable until they were told that Dessinateur would be fine, and, eventually, they were dismissed without any debriefing being done. Gamer didn’t really react, as he was more machine than human, though he did spout out a slew of percentages as to how much they could fix Dessinateur and how drastically, should they not be able to, that his death would affect the team.

Chronogirl was a mess, once she’d fully regained consciousness and found out what had happened. She blamed herself for being hit by the dart, for not being able to go back and stop it. She spent an hour trying to convince Nooroo to kill her as punishment for her idiocy. As was expected, her debriefing gathered about as much insight as Volpina’s and Reflekta’s.

Queen Bee screamed. She screamed at the officers that lead her down the hall. She screamed at Papillon as she was forced into the room. She screamed at Nooroo as he tried to calmly talk her down, kicking at the desk and chairs. Her screams were quickly joined with a horrid sobbing, but it wasn’t until a well-aimed throw of a chair had knocked out Nooroo that Papillon allowed the officers to intervene.

Finally there was Chat Noir, the only AKUMA to be seemingly numb to Dessinateur’s unfortunate passing. He hardly seemed to process that anything had even happened to the redhead, instead scrubbing invisible blood off his hands and ranting about how Agreste had tried to brainwash him—and how he thought it might have worked.

This was, at the very least, an interesting development. It wasn’t one that Papillon had anticipated, and, as he watched Chat Noir all but pull out his hair in frustration, he wondered if it was worth it.

Would having Gabriel Agreste’s son literally rip out his heart really be worth possibly losing Chat Noir to madness in the process?

In any case, Papillon had to appreciate the unintentional poetic irony in which Chat Noir decided to kill his father.

He watched as Chat Noir pleaded with wide eyes and large hand gestures for Nooroo to do something to fix what Agreste had done to him, and turned away from the glass. Overall, it seemed Tikki was right, though he’d never admit it. Something had to be done about Dessinateur’s death, or the AKUMAs would cease to function as a team.

He’d deal with whatever was going on with Chat Noir’s head later. Probably a few rounds of the conditioning tests he’d put them through as children would set the boy right again.

 

*********

Poppet glanced around at the other AKUMAs. They were quiet. Or they had water running down their faces, like what happened when a test hurt a lot. Or they were screaming or whispering or rubbing at their hands.

But the most important thing was that none of them were even looking at her.

Why weren’t they looking at her? Did they not see her? Had she started turning invisible like Vanisher? It didn’t make any sense.

She trailed after them, scowling as they ignored her questions about the mission, following behind as they made their way to the classroom. Poppet wished she had her dolls. Then she could make them talk to her.

The others entered the classroom before her, and she stopped in the doorway. Something was wrong. Why would Tikki, Plagg, Nooroo, and Papillon all be here to talk about the mission? Because that was what this meeting thing was about, right? The mission? They had to talk about it together?

Poppet turned, eyes scanning over the other AKUMAs. Queenie and Nish were in the front, and Wifi and Bubbles were, too. Riffy and Chrono were behind them, with Ladybug and Chat across the aisle. Gamer and HB were next, and Stoney and Tika. And Fray and Reflekta were in their seat at the back, and Pina was across. All by herself.

Poppet cocked her head, eyeing the empty seat beside Pina. Where was Dessi? Why wasn’t he here? Was that why everyone wasn’t talking to her? Because Dessi did something bad and was getting a punishment instead of being in the meeting?

No. Her eyes moved back to Tikki, Plagg, Nooroo, and Papillon. Dessi couldn’t be getting a punishment if they were all here. Nooroo was usually in charge of the punishments.

So where was Dessi?

“Puppeteer, if you could take a seat.”

Poppet gave Papillon a grin, her tongue poking through the hole where her front teeth should have been—she’d pulled them out this morning, while everyone was on the mission, and they wouldn’t even listen to her so she could tell them about how cool it was and how the blood went _everywhere._ “Okie dokie, Papillon,” she said, skipping up the steps and squeezing in between Fray and Reflekta.

“Whaath Dethee?” she whispered, giggling at how her missing teeth made her voice sound funny.

Fray looked down at her, her eyes widening, and she grabbed Poppet’s hand tightly but didn’t answer.

Poppet pouted again, glaring at the table. Why wouldn’t anyone talk to her? Had her teeth falling out made her not make sound? Her eyebrows scrunched up in concentration. Were your front teeth connected to your sound making? She couldn’t remember from Tikki’s lessons, but she thought that that must be true. They’d answer her if they could hear her, wouldn’t they?

She was mad at her teeth. Why’d they have to fall out?

Poppet forgot about her teeth when she realized that Papillon was talking. Maybe he’d tell the others why they couldn’t hear her, that it was because her teeth were missing and they’d taken her sound away with them. Maybe he’d tell her where Dessi was, and what happened on the mission.

“—wondering about Dessi.”

Bingo. Poppet did a dance in her seat. Her guess was right.

She felt Fray and Reflekta stiffen on either side of her, and she looked between them. What was happening? The older girls joined hands in front of Poppet, and Reflekta wrapped her free arm around both of the others. Poppet felt like the inside of a sandwich, being squished between Fray and Reflekta until—POP!—she’d explode and her guts would go all over the classroom and Tikki and Plagg would have to tape her back together.

“There was a complication on the mission, as I’m sure you’re all aware of.”

Poppet focused on Papillon again. What complication? She wasn’t aware of it, that was for sure. Maybe her teeth were connected to her brain, too, and took away the aware part.

“Dessinateur was shot. The bullet went through his brain, killing him instantly.”

This was a joke, Poppet decided. Killing wasn’t something that happened to AKUMAs, it was something they did. Papillon was just making a joke. She snickered under her breath.

“B-but you can fix him, right?” She stretched up to catch a look at Queenie. Her wings were vibrating, and it looked like she might fly out of her seat. Her fingers were white where they gripped the desk. “He’ll just need to heal for a bit, and then he’ll be back, won’t he?”

Poppet stopped laughing. No one else seemed to find the joke funny. Fray and Reflekta gripped her tighter.

“I’m sorry,” Papillon said, “but we can’t fix Dessinateur. He’s dead, and there’s nothing we can do.”

Poppet stared at Papillon, her eyebrows scrunched together. This wasn’t a funny joke anymore. Papillon needed lessons from Chat on how to make a funny joke. He always knew when to stop it when it stopped being funny.

She curled in closer against Fray and Reflekta, scanning their faces. Even Chat didn’t seem to think the joke was funny, and he found everything funny. He was staring at Papillon, his mouth moving but not making any noise—Poppet briefly wondered if he’d lost his talking teeth too—and Ladybug was curled into his chest, her back shaking.

Something wet landed on her head, and Poppet glanced up. Water was falling from the older girls’ eyes, even though they weren’t in a test and nothing was being hurt.

None of this made any sense.

“You have to do something!” Queenie yelled, and Poppet’s eyes returned to her. She’d stood, her wings full on flapping now as she leaned over the desk. “You’re lying! He’s not dead! He can’t be!”

Nish stood up, too, her arms wrapping around Queenie, but the blonde pushed her away. That was rude, Poppet noticed. Tikki and Fray always said you’re not supposed to push people away, but Queenie didn’t seem to care.

“I truly wish I was lying,” Papillon said. “But there isn’t anything we can do to bring Dessinateur back.”

Poppet tensed up. Maybe…maybe this wasn’t a joke. No one else seemed to think it was a joke, and Papillon should have noticed by now that nobody thought it was funny.

But what did that mean? Did that mean that Dessi was actually gone?

“Where did he go?” she asked out loud, forgetting that her talking teeth were gone. No one answered her question.

Queenie screamed, half-running-half-flying from the classroom as she took off down the hall. Tikki left after her.

Poppet scanned the room. She was starting to get scared, and no one looked happy. Everyone looked confused, mostly, or they had water leaking from their eyes. Was this some kind of invisible test? Were there invisible machines hooked up to everybody except her, that were hurting them and making the water come?

“We’ll send you for grief counseling with Tikki and Plagg,” Papillon continued. “It’s been brought to my attention that you were never taught to deal with the death of someone you know. We’ll get you through with them over the rest of the day.”

Poppet nodded along. Right, because it wasn’t supposed to happen. The AKUMAs weren’t supposed to die. Not ever.

“Now, there was another complication with the mission.”

Another one? Poppet did another headcount. No, Dessi was still the only one missing—except for Queenie but she was with Tikki. What other complication was there?

“It seems that Gabriel Agreste attempted to brainwash Chat Noir in an effort to postpone his death.”

Poppet turned to Chat again, watching his arms tense around Ladybug. He didn’t look brainwashed. Wouldn’t Papillon be fixing him if the brainwashing had worked?

“It seems like the brainwashing began to take effect,” Papillon said, his arms tucked behind his back as he turned his gaze on Chat. “Don’t worry, we’ll be able to get you back to normal in no time. It’ll just take a couple of tests, but I know you’ll be able to make a full recovery.”

Poppet let out a sigh. That was good. She didn’t want Dessi to be gone _and_ Chat to be a brainwashed zombie. That would be bad.

“But it’s not possible.” Climatika stood up, and Poppet’s eyes snapped to her. “We’re not supposed to die. AKUMAs aren’t supposed to die.”

Papillon sighed, leveling the AKUMAs with a look. “I’m afraid it’s entirely possible for you to die,” he said, his low voice making Poppet shiver. “Dessinateur proved that today.” He straightened. “You’re all dismissed. Tikki and Plagg will call you down when they’re ready for you.”

 

*********

Chat sat on a plastic chair in the hallway, trying to ignore the red that still seemed to cover his hands. It wasn’t really there. Ladybug had said it wasn’t. Plagg had said it wasn’t during their counselling session. Nooroo had said it wasn’t during the debriefing. There wasn’t blood on his hands, but he could see it there. Mocking him.

It was Agreste’s fault.

Rehashing everything with Plagg hadn’t done anything to help, so now he was waiting for Ladybug to finish her own session with Tikki. Poppet was waiting, too, as she was scheduled for right after Ladybug, and was kicking her feet against the chair and muttering under her breath.

If Chat had been less stuck in his own head, he would have noticed that the girl was being uncharacteristically quiet. Poppet usually couldn’t go more than two seconds before demanding to know what was on someone’s mind, or singing off-key the words to some new song Wifi had found floating in the radio waves.

“Ladybug likth your butt.” Chat furrowed his brows, looking down at Poppet. She seemed to be ignoring him, her fingers playing with the hem of her purple shorts.

“She likes my butt?” he confirmed, wondering where this strange topic had come from.

Poppet nodded, but still didn’t look up. “I heard her and Wifi talking. It-th thupothed to be a thecret, I think. Tho it-th a good thing I don’t got my talking teeth, or you’d know the thecret.”

Chat cocked his head. What was she talking about? “What are talking teeth?”

“Theeth oneth.” Poppet turned to him, spreading her lips in a grimace and sticking her tongue out the hole where her front teeth had been that morning. “I pulled them out, and then everybody wath ignoring me. But I figured it out. They can’t hear me talk cauth my talking teeth are gone.” She narrowed her eyes, glaring up at Chat. “You can hear me?”

“Yeah, I can hear you.” Chat offered her a small smile, his attention catching on his bloody hands once more. _It’s not real,_ he reminded himself, shoving them under his legs. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

Poppet nodded, staring intently at a spot across the hallway. “Maybe the new oneth are coming,” she guessed. “Maybe they tharted growing and that-th why you can hear me now.”

“Maybe,” Chat agreed, and they sat there in silence for a while longer.

“Hey, That?” Poppet finally broke the silence, and Chat glanced down at the girl. “Did you really get brainwathed?”

Chat sighed, running a hand through his hair, the blood dripping into his eyes. _It’s not real._ “I think I did,” he admitted, and Poppet looked back at him. “But Papillon’s gonna fix me, so don’t worry, Poppet.”

She nodded, and her small hands reached out to grab his. He flinched as the blood moved onto the girl’s skin, but he forced himself to breathe through it. _It’s not real._

“How come he can’t ficth Dethee?” Her words were barely a whisper as she played with Chat’s fingers, smearing the blood around.

“I don’t know,” he whispered back, closing his eyes against the red. “I don’t know, Poppet.”

 

*********

“Something’s wrong with me. My body…I think something’s wrong with it.”

Ladybug held back the stuff that threatened to leak from her eyes—she wasn’t in pain, so why was it coming?—and stared across the desk at Tikki. The agent tucked her bright red hair behind her ears, cocking her head curiously.

“What do you mean, Ladybug?” she wondered, and Ladybug sighed, throwing her arms in the air.

“I don’t know,” she cried, her voice breaking on the last word. She swiped angrily as the water leaked from her eyes, trusting her fist out to Tikki to prove her point. “This pain water keeps falling, and I haven’t been doing tests. My chest feels like somethings pressing down on it, and it feels like someone’s choking me.” Her hands clutched her chest. “And it’s like something’s missing from here, like there’s an empty spot.” She gave Tikki a pleading look. “What’s wrong with me? Am I breaking?”

Tikki offered the girl a sad smile, pain water gathering in her own eyes. “These,” she said, reaching across and gathering some of the water off Ladybug’s cheeks, “are called tears. They’re something your body does, and they don’t mean you’re broken.”

Ladybug swiped at her eyes again staring at the pain water—tears?—that came off on her hand. “But I’m not in a test,” she repeated, eyes returning to Tikki. “They only happen during tests, right? Why are they here now?”

“They don’t just happen during tests,” Tikki replied. “You cry when you’re in pain, yes, but you also cry when you’re sad, or when you laugh to hard, or when you’re so happy you could burst. Tears aren’t a bad thing, Ladybug.”

“But why are they here _now_?”

Tikki folded her hands on the desk. “What you’re feeling is grief,” she said. “It’s something that people feel when someone they care about dies. You’re not breaking, Ladybug, even though it feels like you might be. When someone dies, it feels like they’ve taken a piece of us with them. Dessi’s death is going to hurt for a while, but you’ll feel better one day.”

Ladybug tuned out her mentor as Tikki continued to talk. That explained the feelings, then. Dessi was gone, and it made her feel like she was breaking. It was Dessi that was choking her, that was squeezing the breath out of her lungs, that had stolen a piece of her heart and made her feel empty. She wasn’t breaking. Nothing was wrong with her.

“But why?” she asked, interrupting Tikki in the middle of a sentence. “Why did he die? We’re not supposed to die, Tikki. We’re the good guys.”

Something flashed across Tikki’s face, but it was gone too fast for Ladybug to figure out what it was. Her mentor sighed, leaning forward.

“Real life isn’t always like the movies,” she told her. “Sometimes the bad guys win. Sometimes the good guys die. Anyone can die, Ladybug. You could, or Chat, or me, or even Papillon. No one lives forever, no matter whether they’re a good guy or a bad guy. Sometimes bad things just happen, and there’s nothing that can be done to fix it.”

But that didn’t make any sense. In everything Ladybug had ever seen or read, the good guys always won. The bad guys died and the good guys lived happily ever after. So Dessi wasn’t supposed to be dead. Because the AKUMAs were the good guys. They were supposed to kill all the bad guys and come home in time for supper. That was how the world worked.

But if Dessi was dead, what happened to happily ever after? If what Tikki said was right, what did that mean?

Ladybug’s brow scrunched up in thought, and more tears fell from her eyes the longer she stared at the ground.

Were the stories wrong?

 

*********

_Chat grinned, his hand glowing green against the white of the office. Agreste just stood there, in front of the desk, staring at him._

_“How would you like to do this?” Chat purred, inching closer to the man. “I’ll let you choose how you want to die.”_

_Agreste didn’t say anything, his eyes only widening in whatever weird emotion that was as he took a shaky step backwards._

_“No? Purr-haps you just need some suggestions.” Chat took another step closer. “Would you like to be fed your organs? That one’s always fun. No? Okay. Hmm. I could Cataclysm you.” He held the glowing hand in front of his face, grinning into the light. “I’ve got it ready and everything.”_

_“Adrien,” Agreste called, staring into Chat’s soul. “Adrien, get out.”_

_Chat turned, his smirk widening at the sight of the boy cowering in the doorway. He was about Chat’s age, and he could make out blond hair and green eyes from his otherwise blurry features._

_He was across the room in an instant, left arm wrapping around Adrien and pulling him against his body. “You’d pre-fur to watch your son die first?” he questioned, his free hand holding the Cataclysm close to the boy’s head. “How very noble of you, Agreste.”_

_Chat revelled in the cries of the Agrestes as he brought his Cataclysm down, scraping his claws across Adrien’s cheek. The younger Agreste cried out as his blurry skin turned back, as it tightened until it broke, shattering to the ground in a million tiny pieces, and the rest of his body followed suit until all that was left of Adrien was a pile of ashes on the floor._

_Chat dusted off his hands, and suddenly they were red. Adrien was ashes, so there shouldn’t be any blood._

_But, still, the blood dripped off his hands onto the floor bleeding through his suit and staining his skin. The blood was rising, filling the room and making its way up his legs, to his knees._

_Agreste laughed, stepping towards the AKUMA. “You think you’re saving the world.” He grinned, and Chat stumbled backwards. The blood had risen to their waists. “You’re the ones destroying it.”_

_“No!” Chat yelled, trying to move forward, but the blood was rising faster and Agreste was taller._

_He grinned again, staring down as the blood swirled around Chat’s neck. “You have her eyes.”_

_Chat took one last breath as the blood pushed over his head. He was going to drown in it. He couldn’t breathe, and it was getting in his nose, in his mouth. He was—_

“Chat!”

He sat up, gasping in air. He could feel Ladybug’s fingers pushing his hair back from his forehead, could hear her whispering words into his ear.

It’d been nine days. It’d been nine freaking days and he was still having nightmares about Agreste. Why? What was so special about Agreste that he’d decided to stick around? Chat had never had nightmares about the people he’d killed before. Never.

What was wrong with him?

His breathing finally returned to a regular pace and he leaned forward to press his forehead into Ladybug’s shoulder.

“Another one?” she asked, hands still running through his hair. He nodded against her, and neither of them said anything more. They didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t normal. Something was happening to Chat. Agreste’s brainwashing had gone deeper than he’d thought, and the few anti-brainwashing sessions he’d been in so far hadn’t done anything to fix him.

He pulled back, blinking in the light he hadn’t expected. The others were milling about, gathering clothes and heading to the showers.

Chat offered Ladybug a shaky smile. “I’m alright,” he told her, not mentioning the red that still stained his fingers. “We should get ready for the day, Bug.”

Ladybug didn’t look convinced, but she nodded anyway, standing up and pulling Chat with her.

She went on ahead of him into the showers, and Chat’s eyes caught on Queenie. The girl was sitting in her bed, knees tucked up to her chest and eyes staring blankly at the wall. She hadn’t moved much since the mission, barely leaving her bed to even eat.

He sighed, crossing the room and sitting tentatively on the end of the bed. Her normally flawless hair hung limp around her face, and her eyes were red and puffy. Even her wings were drooping.

“Hey, Bee,” he said, and her empty eyes turned to him. “How’s it going?”

“I don’t want to talk, Chat,” she told him, voice devoid of any of her usual sass or snark. “You should just leave.”

He lay a hand on her knee, wincing as the blood dripped off and turned her yellow leggings red.

“I’m worried about you, Bee,” Chat whispered. “We’re all worried about you.”

Queenie didn’t answer, staring down at the hand on her knee for a long while.

“He’s gone, Chat,” she finally said, eyes turning up to bore into his. “How would you feel if Ladybug was gone?”

Chat blinked, and the blood disappeared for a moment. “But you and Dessi weren’t—”

“We could’ve been,” Queenie interrupted. She pushed Chat’s hand away, lying down and pulling the blankets over her. “Leave me alone.”

Chat sat there for a few minutes longer, watching the blood run off his hands and soak Queenie’s blanket. He finally stood, turning away and making a mental note to get Nish or Ladybug to talk to her later. Queenie would probably listen to one of them over him.

 

*********

Finished his shower, Chat stood in front of the mirror, poking at the spot of rot growing on his cheek. That didn’t make any sense. Why would it be there? He hadn’t used Cataclysm on himself, so why was his skin rotting away.

He gave a particularly hard jab, and all but screeched as a chunk of his skin fluttered to the ground.

“Are you okay?”

Chat jumped, turned away from his reflection to look at Ladybug. He slowly returned his gaze, letting out a sigh when the rot was gone and his face was whole. He willed his heartrate to return to normal, and offered Ladybug a weak smile.

“I’m fine,” he lied, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. He’d never lied to Ladybug before. Ever. But since Agreste, he’d been doing it a lot. He didn’t like it.

Ladybug still looked concerned, gathering his hands in hers. He couldn’t look down, couldn’t stare at the blood he knew was tainting her skin.

_It’s not real._

“Is it back?” she asked. “The blood?”

As if it had ever left. Chat hesitated only a second before shaking his head, another lie falling guiltily off his tongue.

“There’s no blood.”

Nooroo’s voice blared over the speakers. _“Ladybug, Chat Noir, Bubbler, Volpina, and Horrificator, please report to the meeting room after breakfast.”_

Ladybug offered him a smile, squeezing his hands. “We’ve got another mission, Kitty,” she said. “This’ll get Agreste off your mind.”

Chat gave her a shaky smile in reply. He could only hope.

 

*********

A football game. That was where they’d ended up, later that afternoon. The others were covering the entrances, hiding in the shadows until their presence was known and locking the doors.

Chat dropped from the sky, spinning around his baton until he landed in the middle of the field, next to the people singing France’s national anthem. He collapsed the baton, tucking it back onto his belt as he sauntered up to the singer and plucked the microphone from her hands.

“Hello, France!” he called into it, swinging his free arm wide. “Un-fur-tunately, it won’t be paw-sible for the game you expected to proceed as planned. Instead, Paris will be hosting a once in a lifetime event.” He swiped the ball from the field, bouncing it between his knees and grinning at the sounds of screaming erupting around him. The others hadn’t even made themselves known yet, and already they were terrified.

“For today and today only, Fur-ance will be joining forces with England to play to the death against the rookie AKUMA team. Exciting, no? And now, to meet their challengers.” He let the ball drop, swinging his arm towards the north entrance.

“She’s little, she’s mean, and she’s a really good kisser. Introducing our star striker: Ladybug!” He watched Ladybug emerge, snapping someone’s neck as she smiled waved for the cameras.

His arm moved to the south entrance. “She’s big, she’s purple, and she’s got a wicked drop-kick with that tail. Give a big welcome to our rock star goalie: Horrificator!” Riffy appeared with a roar, someone clutched in her tail, and she tossed another in the air, demonstrating her tail-kick by punting him across the field and into one of the nets, the woman’s body snapping as it hit the goalpost.

Chat turned his arm toward the west entrance. “He’s colourful, he’s mad with a sword, and he ate sixteen pancakes for breakfast this morning. Let’s hear it for left winger: Bubbler!” Bubbles made his entrance, swords slicing through bodies before he dropped to the field with a front flip.

Chat swung towards the final east entrance. “She’s foxy, she’s not afraid to get dirty, and she’s got some crazy musical skills. Raise some noise for right winger: Volpina!” Pina popped out of the stands, ripping out someone’s throat before raising her flute to her lips. A half dozen copies of herself wearing football jerseys appeared on the field, rounding out the team.

“And, last but not least, he’s dashing, he’s charming, and his butt looks really good in leather. Give it up for our paw-some defender: Chat Noir!” He threw his arms in the air, spinning around and taking a bow.

He turned to the players, shepherded together by Bubbles and the Volpina clones.

He flashed the cowering players a smirk. “Let’s get this game started, shall we?”

The AKUMAs sprang into action, the girls taking care of the crowd as Bubbles turned his swords on the players.

Chat dropped the microphone and swept out his baton, using it to catch an English player as he tried to escape. His hands closed around the man’s neck, claws piercing the skin.

“Please,” the man begged, his voice ragged from lack of air and from the tears that streamed down his face. “Please don’t kill me.”

Chat’s grin faltered and his claws released the man on their own, dropping him to the ground. He didn’t move to give chase when the man scampered away, his breaths quickening as he stared at nothing. He could feel the blood seeping onto his hands, staining the skin the colour of Ladybug’s suit, despite the fact that he’d yet to kill anyone on this mission. He could see it dripping down and pooling around his feet.

_It's not real._

He wiped his hands on his suit, trying to get the blood off. He knew, deep down, that he was being ridiculous. That should have been an easy kill. All he’d had to do was squeeze a tiny bit harder, and the man would have been dead.

What was wrong with him?

The battle blazed on around Chat, but he just stood there. There was a ringing in his ears, and he couldn’t see well enough to concentrate on anything. He was breathing faster and faster, and he gripped his baton tightly, his hands sweaty within his gloves.

And then the world went black.

 

*********

Thirteen years ago, then American President Allan Kurtzberg, his wife, Marjorie, and their three children were vacationing in France.

Thirteen years ago, their youngest son was kidnapped. All they received was a photograph of Nathanael strapped into some sort of torture device, a lock of his hair, and a warning. A warning to not go against Papillon or the AKUMA Program at any cost, or Nathanael would pay.

Seven years ago, a new AKUMA made his debut. A beast with purple skin and Allan’s red hair and Marjorie’s eyes.

No longer in a position of power, the Kurtzbergs had moved to a small town in Washington. They hadn’t returned to France since Nathanael had been taken, especially since the AKUMAs had begun their attacks. The AKUMAs never left Europe, they’d surmised, aside from a few attacks in nearby Asian countries. As long as they stayed out of the continent, they and their remaining children would be safe.

President Kurtzberg had turned a blind eye on the millions of dollars going into a foreign account, some medical testing in France that he’d been urged to accept if he wanted his son to live. It was, essentially, what led to his downfall as leader.

The elder Kurtzberg children were away at college when the doorbell rang, a fact for which Marjorie was eternally thankful for.

She replaced her paintbrush on her easel, and crossed through the large house to answer the door. The UPS delivery man had her sign for a large package, and she carried it into the house. She wasn’t expecting anything, and it didn’t have a return label. But that didn’t mean anything. Allan had taken to ordering things off infomercials, and half of them didn’t have return labels.

Marjorie found a knife, and slit open the top of the box. Whatever was inside was covered in a thin layer of tissue paper, but a purple card lay on top. She picked it up, her heartrate accelerating as her eyes scanned the words again and again. This couldn’t be real. She couldn’t be reading the words right.

Her eyes were starting to blur as she tore back the tissue paper, releasing a scream as she saw what was inside. The card fluttered to the ground, and she spun to empty her stomach on the carpet, gagging and spluttering as she ran out of food to bring up.

Allan and the security guards heard the screaming, and ran into the room. He ran to comfort his wife, not noticing the box.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, pushing back his hair as the guards scanned for any sign of an intrusion.

Marjorie raised a shaky finger, pointing at the box and staring at her husband with haunted, bloodshot eyes. “Nathanael,” she whispered, her body wracking as a sob took over.

Allan released his wife for a moment, leaning forward to pear into the box.

It was full of chunks of skin and muscle, pieces of bone sticking through. An eyeball rested in one corner, bunches of red hair scattered throughout.

He turned his head so his own bile wouldn’t hit Marjorie, and his sobs joined hers as they clutched each other. The card lay forgotten beside them, the words staring calmly up at the ceiling, ignorant of the upset they had caused.

 

_President Allan and Marjorie Kurtzberg,_  
_We no longer have any use for Nathanael. As promised, we’ve returned your son to you._  
_Thank you for your contribution, and for your cooperation during your presidency._  
_Your country’s money went towards a great cause._  
_Sincerely,_  
_Dr. Jean Papillon and the AKUMA Program_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that happened… Everyone’s a little messed up, but, I mean, they’ve basically been messed up since Papillon kidnapped them. They’ve just gotten a little more messed up. Especially Chat, tbh. Killing your father can do that to a person, even if you don’t necessarily know it’s your father.  
> I wanted to get some post-mission Chronogirl in there, since she blames herself for Dessi's death, but I just couldn't make it work. I'll fit it into the next chapter, though.  
> Anyway. Let me know what you think!  
> Comments are life and asks are golden!  
> Please come hit me up on Tumblr at probably-voldemort! I will legit talk to you about anything anytime anywhere!  
> Thanks for reading :)


	6. Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MIRACULOUS Agents Gabriel Agreste, Jean Papillon, and Guillaume Sancoeur headed the AKUMA Program in 1989. But when the failing program loses its funding and they continue their research in secret, it leads the three down paths they never saw coming. Paths which most, if not all, would not survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Sorry the wait has been so long. Life got busy and this just kept getting pushed back. But it’s here now!  
> I’ve had this chapter (and the next) finished for about a week now, but hydro knocked out our internet when they were trimming trees near the power lines and we just got internet back this morning after about ten days without it. So I couldn’t really post this without internet.  
> Anyway, let’s pretend that 1980s-2000s spy tech is at least the equivalent of today’s general tech because a) I couldn’t do research on what technology was actually available then because no internet, and b) I really didn’t feel like researching what technology was actually available then. So we’re going to play pretend a little bit.  
> And I’m also sorry that I’m introducing you to some new characters here slash fleshing out some old characters that will all be dead by the end of the flashback. Actually, I’m not that sorry.  
> Anyway, here’s the first part of some mostly Gabriel POV of the 27 years leading up to where we’re at in the story, and more background on how Papillon became the way he was than you ever wanted. (Also let’s say they’re about 20 at the beginning of the chapter)  
> Also this chapter got way way way longer than I meant for it to (like almost 20k) so I've split it into two.  
> Hope you enjoy! :)

**1989**

 

Jean Papillon threw the papers down on the desk, running a hand through his messy hair.

“What are we doing wrong?” he muttered, turning to pace towards their chalkboards of calculations and formulas.  “It should have worked that time.”

“Calm down.”  Gabriel Agreste spun in his chair as he read over the file in his hands, feet pushing off his desk.  “They lasted six minutes on average.  That’s two longer than the last batch.  We’re getting there.”

“It’s not going fast enough,” Jean insisted.  “It’s taken us _three years_ to reach six minutes.  If we keep going at this rate, our great grandchildren will be dead before we get any accurate results.”

“It’s a hopeless project.”

Gabriel stopped spinning and they both turned to look at the third member of their team, Guillaume Sancoeur.

Guillaume glanced up from his own desk, raising an eyebrow.

“What?  The AKUMA Program is designed to fail,” he pointed out, returning to his papers.  “With the restraints the agency’s put on it, there’s no way we’ll ever get anywhere near actual supersoldiers.  Did you really think they’d put three agents who’ve barely graduated from the Academy in charge of something they actually thought was important?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes, returning to spinning in his chair.  He didn’t know why Guillaume kept insisting on pointing out how useless their work was.  Honestly, Jean was the only one who couldn’t see it.  But Guillaume was right.  If MIRACULOUS had even the smallest hope that AKUMA would ever yield successful results, something more than the subjects living for more than a half dozen minutes past injection, they would have put more qualified agents in charge of the project, ones who’d been out of the Academy for more than four and a half years.

But Jean wouldn’t hear it.  He was determined that they’d be the ones to create supersoldiers.  And they _were_ making progress, as small as it was.  The project had been in the works for almost twenty years when they’d picked it up three years, and subjects had been barely lasting a minute.  What was holding them back were the restrictions the agency put on them, tedious things like ethics and a lack of proper equipment.  Of course, MIRACULOUS had all the equipment they’d ever need, but it all went towards programs with more of a chance of succeeding than the AKUMA Program.

All three of them were sure that, if they were given just a little more funding, a little more freedom in the ways they were allowed to treat their subjects, they’d have a successful serum in no time.

Jean and Guillaume had started arguing over the effect of some chemical or other, but Gabriel ignored them in favour of attempting to decipher the intern’s notes.  Why did they even have interns who had worse writing than kindergarteners?

The door slammed open, and he stopped spinning, leaning forward over his desk to watch whoever dared to disrespect Jean’s authority by not knocking.  It was always a wild ride.

On cue, Jean turned away from the board, face pinched in annoyance.  “Do you not have any sense of—” He broke off, face lighting up, as the intruder rounded the filing cabinets that had been blocking her from view.  “Nathalie, my love!  Is it time for dinner already?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes and returned to the unreadable notes when no one else followed Guillaume’s younger sister into the room.

Nathalie crossed the room, leaning up to press a quick kiss to her boyfriend’s lips.  “Not yet,” she told him, ignoring the eye roll that Guillaume was giving them.  “Fu wants you three in his office.”

Jean sighed, running a hand through his hair.  “Alright,” he agreed before raising his voice.  “Interns!”

A large teenager entered the room, a thick stack of paper clutched in his arms, but it was still two interns too little.

“Where are the others?”  Jean scowled at the kid, waving his hand before Michel Nooroo could answer.  “Never mind.  It doesn’t matter.  But if I find out they’ve been making out in a closet again, I’m having the lot of you transferred.”  Gabriel snorted, flipping a page.  He wouldn’t bet against the others being hidden somewhere making out.  That seemed to be the only thing they could be relied on to do.

“Speaking of.”  Nooroo’s eyes snapped to him, and Gabriel waved the file at him.  “Who took these notes?”

Nooroo shrugged.  “Plagg.”

“Of course.”  Gabriel rolled his eyes, tossing the file onto the table.  “Gui, make a note to never let Plagg take notes again.  Nooroo, have Tikki transcribe these while we’re gone.”

He pushed out of his seat, rubbing at his eyes under his glasses.  Fu was no doubt sending them on a mission, which would be good.  He needed to get out of the lab for a while.  If Nathalie didn’t force them out for dinner and showers every few days, he was fairly certain they’d never see the light of day.

“Right.”  Jean slung his bag over his shoulder, throwing an arm around Nathalie’s.  “I want the lab clean by the time we get back, Nooroo.  Spotless.  And I want all the bodies ready for dissection.”

Nooroo saluted, and Gabriel resisted the urge to roll his eyes again.  He was such a suck-up.  Every other intern they’d had assigned to the program couldn’t wait to leave, or spent the entire time doing other things.  Honestly, Tikki and Plagg’s daily closet make outs weren’t anywhere near the extent to which past interns went to get out of actually doing work for the AKUMA Program.  Gabriel himself had spent an entire week living in a boiler room when he’d been assigned to intern for the program.

Guillaume brought up some numbers as they left the lab, and Jean released Nathalie to continue their argument.

“Hey, Nat.”  Gabriel pulled his friend’s sister close to his side as they walked, resisting the urge to mess up her meticulous bun.  Messing up Nathalie’s hair wouldn’t win him any brownie points, and he needed to stay on Nathalie’s good side to get a date with anyone ever.  Nathalie had connections.  “I’m thinking of becoming a fashion designer.”

Nathalie delicately removed his arm, glancing skeptically up at him.  “Why?”

“For a cover.”  He adjusted his glasses.  “Like how Gui wants to open a bakery, and how Jean is going to live in a hole in the ground and shower once a month.”

“Once a week,” Jean called without turning around.  “Don’t make my girlfriend think I’m uncivilized, Gabe.”

Gabriel grinned at his friend’s back.  “Once a week,” he amended, turning back to Nathalie.

She raised an eyebrow at him.  “I meant why are you telling me this?”

“Oh.”  Gabriel scratched at the back of his neck.  “Do you think Adele would be interested in being a model?  Or going to dinner with me?”

“You’re perfectly capable of asking her yourself,” Nathalie pointed out, rolling her eyes.  “I’m not your personal assistant.  And, for the record, Adele is too good for you, Gabe.”

“I know.”  Gabriel sighed, letting a dopey smile take over his face.  “She’s perfect.”

Nathalie snorted, and they walked in silence the rest of the way through Headquarters to Director Fu’s office.  Jean and Guillaume led the way inside, but Nathalie grabbed Gabriel’s sleeve before he could follow.

“You didn’t hear it from me,” she started, leveling him with a look, “but I’m ninety nine percent sure that she’d say yes if you asked her.”

Gabriel felt his heart leap to his throat.  “To what?” he asked.  “Being a model?  Going out for dinner?  Marrying me?”

Nathalie rolled her eyes, which was more or less their resting state.  “Any of it, honestly,” she muttered, slapping him affectionately on the arm.  “But maybe start with dinner.”  She turned to leave, pausing after a few steps.  “Actually, start with a shower.  You smell, nerd.”

Gabriel grinned, turning to enter the office.  If Nathalie thought Adele would say yes, it was practically guaranteed.  He’d finally have a date with her.

But Nathalie was also right in that he should probably take a shower first.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had one.

*********

“What do you mean you’re shutting us down?”  Jean slammed his palms onto the director’s desk, glaring down at Fu.  “You can’t do that!  Why would you?  We’re making supersoldiers, Fu!  You can’t cut that!”

“You’re not making supersoldiers.”  Fu was far calmer than any of the other occupants in the room, calmer than Jean’s outward fury, calmer than Guillaume’s silent fuming, calmer than Gabriel’s distressed pacing.  It was infuriating, really, that he could shut down the one thing that they’d spent the entirety of the last three years of their lives on and not even pretend to care.

Gabriel stopped pacing to laugh incredulously.  “We’re not?” he repeated.  “Well, that’s news to me.  Maybe we’d have made some more progress on whatever we were supposed to be doing if we hadn’t spent the last three years trying to make supersoldiers.”

“That’s not what I meant.”  Gabriel snorted, resuming his pacing, and Fu sighed.  “AKUMA isn’t getting anywhere near supersoldiers.  The best serum you’ve gotten has only kept the subjects alive for, what?  Four and a half minutes?”

“The last batch got six,” Guillaume growled, scowling from his place leaning against the wall.  “We’re making progress, Fu.  We’ll get there.”

“Six minutes isn’t progress when the program’s been active for twenty years.”  Fu sighed again, steepling his hands on his desk.  “I’m sorry, boys, but we can’t afford to continue to waste funding in a program that isn’t going anywhere.”

“What funding?” Jean hissed.  “We use outdated equipment, work in subpar labs, and don’t have anywhere near the resources we need to get anywhere.  The department is why AKUMA isn’t advancing as quickly as it should be.  You can’t expect us to do anything if you don’t give us adequate funding!”

“This is not up for discussion.”  Fu rose to his full height, which wasn’t much, and leveled Jean with a glare.  “AKUMA is a drain on resources.  The program goes through far too many test subjects and hasn’t gotten anywhere close to a success in twenty years.  It ends now.”

Guillaume pushed off the wall, storming across the office.  “We just finished a round of tests this morning,” he pointed out.  “There are twelve bodies down in the lab that will go to waste if you cut the program.  What if what we need to succeed is in them?  You’re throwing away that chance, Fu.  Any research we could gain from them will be lost.”

Gabriel stopped pacing, standing behind the others in support.  Fu stared at the three of them for a few long minutes before sinking back into his chair.

“Two weeks” he said, opening a folder in a clear sign of dismissal.  “You have two weeks to gather what you can from the subjects, and then you’re done.  You’ll have your new assignments then.  Now get out of my office.”

 

_Two Weeks Later_

The door slammed open, but Jean barely glanced up from his packing.

“Rumour is you quit.”

Jean shrugged, folding another shirt.  “I was here to make supersoldiers, Gabe,” he said.  “Without AKUMA, that’s not going to happen.  I might as well leave.”

“That’s bullshit.”  Gabriel threw himself onto his friend’s bed, leveling him with a look.  “You were here to be a MIRACULOUS agent, to save the world, not to make supersoldiers.  Sure, that’s where we got put, but that wasn’t why you signed up.”

Jean practically growled, tossing the shirt into his suitcase.  “They can’t just throw away our work like it was nothing.  Like _we_ were nothing.”  He glared at his things, as though they were the reasons AKUMA had been cut.  “I can’t work for Fu anymore.”

Gabriel let out a breath through his teeth.  It wouldn’t last.  The last time Jean had quit, back in the Academy over the cafeteria’s decision to stop serving chicken burgers, he was back within a month.  Might as well humour him as long as his tantrum lasts.

“How did Nat take it?”  Jean froze, and Gabriel’s eyebrows rose, a smirk sliding onto his face.  “You didn’t tell her?  Jeez, Jean.  Better get out fast, cause you’re dead when she finds out.”

Jean let out a long breath but didn’t otherwise acknowledge Gabriel for a few minutes.

“Doesn’t this frustrate you at all?” he finally asked, slamming his suitcase shut.

“What?  The fact that Nathalie’s going to kill you for not telling her?”  Gabriel shrugged.  “Not really, no.  Can I have your Walkman when you die?”  Jean opened his mouth to point out the obvious fact that, no, that was not what he had meant, but Gabriel rolled his eyes.  “I know, Jean.  Yeah, AKUMA being cut bugs me.  Obviously it does.  But there’s not really anything we can do about it, and quitting isn’t going to make them change their minds.”

Jean sighed again, and zipped his suitcase closed.  “Let me know if you find any of my things,” he said, handing Gabriel a piece of paper.

He unfolded it, staring at the unfamiliar coordinates in confusion.  “What’s this?”

“Seven o’clock tonight.  Bring Gui,” was all Jean said before leaving the dorm they’d shared for the last twelve years.

*********

“It’s…a house?”

A mansion would be more accurate, but Gabriel wasn’t about to correct Guillaume’s observation.  The sentiment was still the same.  Jean’s coordinates had led them to a large house in the middle of nowhere.

“Are you sure you typed them in right?”  Gabriel glanced over Guillaume’s shoulder at the GPS.

“I’m not a rookie, Gabe.”  Guillaume rolled his eyes.  “I know what I’m doing.  Are you sure you wrote down the right coordinates?”

“I didn’t write them down.  Jean handed me the paper.”  Gabriel reached for his pocket again, before remembering that the paper had disintegrated as soon as sunlight had touched it.  Whatever was in this mansion, Jean didn’t want anyone else finding out.  “Maybe he gave us the wrong ones?”

Gabriel wasn’t sure how long they would have stood there debating whether they were at the right place—because, honestly, he’d been expecting some weird cave in the forest or a strip club—if the door hadn’t swung open.

“You’re late.”

Clearly they had made it to the right place.  Gabriel looked to Guillaume, who shrugged, and they made their way to the large doorway.

“Just, like, five minutes,” Guillaume pointed out, pushing past Jean and into the house.  “My sister is pissed at you, by the way, so you have half an hour to convince me I shouldn’t give her the coordinates to your midlife crisis so she can come kill you.”

Gabriel offered Jean a smile, taking in the high ceilings and chandeliers of whatever this place was.  “I get his Walkman when he dies,” he pointed out, sticking his tongue out at Guillaume.  “He promised.”

Jean sighed, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose.  “No, I didn’t.  Could we please focus?”

“Alright.”  Guillaume nodded once before gesturing at the grandeur of the mansion.  “Let’s start with where the hell are we?”

Jean crossed his arms, leaning back against the banister of the staircase.  “This is my house.”

“Your house?” Gabriel laughed incredulously.  “Where did you get a house?”

Jean shrugged.  “I bought it.”

Gabriel’s grin grew.  Jean bought a house?  This was definitely better than caves or strippers.  “When did you buy a house?” he wondered.

“Yesterday.”

Gabriel lost it, collapsing onto the mosaic tile floor in a fit of giggles that may have been slightly pushed along by the tequila shots he’d had when they’d stopped for food on the way out.  (It’d been a long walk to Jean’s house.  You couldn’t blame them for getting hungry.) 

Clearly Jean had completely lost his mind.  There was no other explanation as to why he’d just up and quit the agency and buy a house.  Jean was not a house kind of person.

“Does this mean you’re planning on marrying Nat?” Guillaume wondered, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.  “Because she’s only nineteen, Jean.  My sister is not ready to get married.”

Gabriel snorted.  “You’re not ready to get married.”

Guillaume rolled his eyes, glancing down at his friend.  “Gee, thanks, Gabe,” he drawled.  “Because I was thinking that being single made me the perfect candidate for eloping tonight.  I was going to make you my M. Sancoeur.  But I guess you’re out of luck now.”

“Obviously we’d take my name, dearest.”  Gabriel fluttered his eyelashes, the effects of which were lost by the fact that he was still lying on the floor, shaking with laughter.

“Of course.  What was I thinking?”  Guillaume rolled his eyes again, turning back to Jean.  “So.  Why’d you buy a house?”

Jean pushed off the banister, grinning at them.  “Not to marry your sister,” he denied.  “Yet.  But follow me.”

Guillaume offered a hand to Gabriel, helping to pull him to his feet, and they followed their friend through a maze of hallways.

After descending a set of stairs, they paused in front of a door and Jean turned back to them, a glint in his eye.

“This is why I bought a house,” he told them before swinging the door wide.

Gabriel’s mouth dropped open, his bag falling to the floor, as he took in the basement.  It looked like something out of Frankenstein, some mad scientist’s lab that clashed with the splendor of the rest of the house.  There were tables with all kinds of equipment, medical chairs for subjects to be strapped into, and, most shockingly of all, a familiar stack of folders on one table.

“I may have stolen all our research from MIRACULOUS,” Jean admitted.  “Welcome to the new home of the AKUMA Program.  No rules, no regulations, no limited funds, and no Fu.  Are you in?”

“Hell yeah!” Gabriel crowed, thrusting a fist into the air.  “But I’m not quitting the agency.”

Jean shook his head.  “I don’t expect you to,” he assured them.  “Just don’t tell anyone about this place.  It’s not in my name, and I’d rather MIRACULOUS didn’t find out about any of this.”

Gabriel nodded his agreement, and Guillaume grinned.

“I’m in, too.”  He leveled Jean with a look.  “You need to call Nathalie soon, though.  I think she’s close to hunting you down.”

Gabriel whooped, picking his bag up off the ground.

“You know what this calls for?” He fished around inside for a moment before pulling out a bottle of tequila.  “Shots!”

Guillaume snorted.  “Gabe, you know Fu hates it when we work drunk.”

“So?”  Gabriel paused, screwing up his face as he freed the bottle from its cap and took a large gulp.  “Fu’s not here, and drunk science is the best science.”  He held out the bottle to his friends, waggling his eyebrows.

Jean snorted and walked away, returning a moment later with three freshly opened beakers.  Gabriel’s grin grew, and he poured them each a generous shot.

“To the AKUMA Program!” Guillaume declared, raising his beaker in the air.  The other’s echoed his actions, clinking the glasses together.  “May it finally be a success!”

 

**1992**

 

“She said yes!” Gabriel collapsed against the door to the lab, making a wide sweep with the half empty bottle of tequila in his hand.  “I call shots to celebrate!”

Jean glanced up from his desk, scowling at Gabriel.  “We’re not going to celebrate you finally figuring out that Adele is just as ridiculously in love with you as you are with her,” he said.  “A fact which literally everyone else has known for years.”

Gabriel snorted, too drunk and too happy to care about Jean’s tone.  “Well, you can just go poop on your own party all by yourself,” he declared, pushing away from the wall to stumble across the lab to Guillaume.  “You’ll do shots with me, won’t you, Gui?”

Guillaume raised an eyebrow, glancing between Gabriel and the body he was currently elbow-deep in dissecting.  “Maybe after I finish with this?”

Gabriel hummed in agreement, taking the few steps needed to fall into his desk chair with a sigh.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she?” he asked no one, grinning into the bottle and taking another swig.  “She’s way too perfect for me.  I should probably break up with her.”

“No.”  He glanced over at Guillaume, who was smirking at him.  “We’ve finally heard the end of your pining, Gabe.  You’re not going to ruin this for us.”

Gabriel shrugged, spinning in his chair and taking another sip of tequila.  “I won’t break up with her,” he promised.  “We’ll be together until we die in a fiery explosion while saving the world and our dozens of beautiful children will carry on our mission in our name.”

Guillaume laughed and shook his head, carrying on with the dissection in silence.  Gabriel took another swig from the bottle, imagining the gorgeous babies he and Adele would make one day.

His musings were interrupted by a figure looming above him.  He glanced up, grinning at Jean, and held out the bottle.

“Changed your mind?”

Jean’s scowl didn’t lighten up, and Gabriel warily retracted his offer.

“You can’t keep coming here drunk,” Jean snapped.  “You can’t get any actual work done, and you just distract the rest of us.  It’s probably the reason we never make any progress.”

Gabriel squinted at his friend, his brain too foggy to really follow the conversation.  “But we _are_ making progress?” he pointed out, gesturing vaguely at the body Guillaume was working on.  “That guy lasted a month, and he was, like, really strong.”  They’d decided a couple years back that one subject at a time would probably work best until they found a serum that actually allowed them to live for a substantial amount of time.  Gabriel grinned, waving the bottle at Jean.  “We should celebrate that, too!  More shots!”

Jean snatched the bottle from his hand.  “What is your problem, Gabe?” he yelled, and Gabriel squinted at him in an attempt to turn the three Jeans back into one.  “Can’t you take anything seriously ever?  I thought you were interested in actually making AKUMA happen, but clearly you don’t care about anything other than girls and getting drunk.  I was going to discuss some important things with you, but apparently you don’t care about that either.”

“Lay off him.”  Guillaume was suddenly at their side, wiping the blood and guts off his hands on a towel.  “He comes in drunk maybe once a month, Jean, and it’s usually because he’s convinced Adele is dating someone, or he’s screwed up trying to talk to her.  Since they’re apparently together now, the drunkness will probably go down.”  Gabriel nodded enthusiastically, grabbing onto Guillaume’s leg to keep himself from falling off the chair.  Guillaume sighed, sending a look to Jean.  “So give it a rest.  We can talk about whatever it is you want to talk about tomorrow, and Gabe will be hungover enough to agree to whatever you want, so you win anyway.”

Gabriel stuck his tongue out, not particularly helping his case, and swiped the bottle back.  Jean took a few deep breaths and returned to his desk.

Guillaume sighed, tossing the towel back at the dissection table.  “Good.  Now, I’m going to go finish washing up, and then we’re going out to celebrate Gabe finally getting a date.”  Gabriel whooped and toppled out of his chair, and Guillaume turned to Jean.  “And you’re coming with us.  You’re also going to get Nat to join us, because you haven’t even spoken to her in almost a month, and I’m not going to let you break my sister’s heart.  Got it?”  Jean grumbled something in agreement, and Guillaume sighed again, heading for the sink.

*********

Gabriel all but dropped three brightly coloured drinks onto the table, sloppily falling into his seat.

“To Monsieur Subject Number 8897 and his fantastic month long survival!” he toasted, raising his purple drink into the air.

“And to Gabriel finally getting the balls to ask out Adele!” Guillaume added, clinking Gabriel’s drink with his own orange one.  He glared at Jean until he sighed, picking up the final blue drink and clinking it to the others’.

“To both those things,” he grumbled, and Gabriel whooped, downing his entire drink in one go.

“It’s empty,” he whined, frowning into the glass.  “I think I need another one.”

He stood to leave, but Guillaume grabbed his arm, keeping him in his seat.  “I think you can wait a bit.”

Gabriel hummed, tapping his fingers on the table to the beat of the song.  Arms wrapped around Jean, and he followed them up to Nathalie’s face, which was usually something that accompanied her arms.

“Where’ve you been?” she asked, scowling as she slid around him to sit in his lap.  “I haven’t heard from you in weeks.”

“I’ve been busy.”  Jean waved a hand in a vague dismissal before wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing a kiss against her neck.  “But I’m yours tonight, mon ange.”

Nathalie giggled, her scowl fading away as she pulled Jean’s face up to hers for a kiss.  Gabriel’s own face twisted into a frown.  Nathalie was too good for Jean.  She never took anyone’s shit but his.  It didn’t make any sense.

Guillaume must have sensed he was about to say something stupid, because suddenly Jean’s untouched drink was in his hand and the straw was in his mouth.  By the time he’d finished it, he’d forgotten what he was going to say.

“Hey, Nat.”  He threw the straw at the still-kissing couple, nailing Nathalie in the side of the head.  Nathalie turned to glare at him, and Gabriel grinned back.  “I like this song.  Come dance with me.”

Nathalie’s glare turned amused.  “When have you ever seen me dance?” she asked, and Gabriel shrugged.  “How much have you had to drink?”

Gabriel tried to remember, but gave up after a couple of seconds, shrugging instead.  “All of it?”

Nathalie laughed, though it might have had to do with the way Jean was nuzzling into her neck.  “Adele’s getting us drinks,” she said, and Gabriel lit up.  “I bet she’ll dance with you.”

Gabriel was practically vibrating, searching the bar for Adele with so much concentration that he toppled over onto Guillaume.  He turned over, grinning up at his friend.

“Adele’s here.”

Guillaume smirked.  “I heard.”

“She likes me,” Gabriel continued, closing his eyes.  “Like, like-likes me.”  Guillaume was laughing at him, but he didn’t care.  “We’re going on a date.  A real life date and then we’re going to get married.”

Another laugh joined Guillaume’s, the most perfectly perfect laugh he’d ever heard, and Gabriel opened his eyes, grinning up at the most beautiful girl in the universe.

“I think we should probably have that date before we think about marriage,” she said, and Gabriel would have pouted but he wasn’t sure his pouting muscles would ever work around Adele.

“Hi.”  He pulled himself up, grin turning dopey.

“Hi, yourself.”  Adele grinned back, downing her drink before sinking into his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck.  “How’s your night going?”

Gabriel shrugged, his own arms twining around her waist as he leaned forward to rub their noses together.  “Gui cut me off and Nat won’t dance with me cause she’s too busy making out with Jean.”

He heard Nathalie snort from across the table, but Adele just stroked the side of his neck, humming in sympathy.

“You poor thing,” she cooed, pressing a kiss to his cheek.  “I’ll dance with you, if you want.”

“Yes!”  Gabriel stood up quickly, lifting Adele with him and almost knocking the table over in the process.  “We’re going dancing,” he announced to their amused friends, laughing as Adele pulled him towards the dance floor.

*********

Gabriel pressed his palms against his eyes, groaning.  “Couldn’t we turn off some lights?”

“It’s not my fault you’re a lightweight,” was all Jean said, and Gabriel had a feeling that the lights wouldn’t be turned off.  Crashing his head down onto the table in frustration was a mistake, as all it served to do was make his headache ten times worse.

“Could we just get this on with so I can go take a nap?” he moaned.

Something pressed against his hand, and he lifted his head enough to squint at the blurry shape of Guillaume’s hangover cure.  He murmured his thanks, downed the glass of disgusting, and pressed his face back against the table.

“What I was going to tell you last night was that clearly we’re doing something wrong.”  _Yeah,_ Gabriel silently agreed.  _Something wrong like practically yelling at this ungodly hour._  “Even though we’re getting some positive results with the newer serums, they still aren’t surviving long enough for us to test them in all the situations a supersoldier should be capable of surviving.”

Guillaume shuffled beside Gabriel.  “What are you saying, Jean?”

“I’m saying we need to be able to push their limits to the extremes within the timeframe we have so we can accurately adjust the next serum to fix any problems that might occur.”

Gabriel groaned, pressing his face harder into the table.  There were too many big words for how badly his head was hurting, so he decided to just tune them out as best as he could.

“Correct me if I’m wrong.”  Guillaume’s voice was tense, and Gabriel figured he should probably be listening to what his actual words were if whatever Jean was talking about had him this concerned.  But that would take a level of concentration he couldn’t currently reach, and Guillaume could handle himself in an argument.  “But it sounds like you’re suggesting we torture them.”

It was blissfully silent for a few long moments, and then Guillaume’s chair crashed to the ground.

“Jean!  You can’t be serious!  These are _people_ , not lab rats!  We can’t just torture them in case it might make the program move along faster!”

“You know I have a point,” Jean argued.  “We’re not getting all the data we need simply because they aren’t living long enough for us to ethically perform all the necessary tests.  We need to change our methods.”

“But not like this!”

“Gabe agrees with me, don’t you?”

Gabriel peeled himself off the table, squinting between Jean and Guillaume.  He was missing something big here, if the way they were glaring at each other was any indication, but it probably wasn’t like his vote would be making some life or death decision.  If it was, they would have saved this discussion for some time when he wasn’t massively hungover.

“If I do, can I go take a nap?” Jean nodded once, and Gabriel stood up, pushing his glasses back up his nose.  “Sorry, Gui, but I’m going with Jean on this one.”

*********

“Do you have any idea what you agreed to?”

Gabriel rolled over in bed, squinting at Guillaume.  The nap had definitely helped, and his headache was all but gone.  But he still couldn’t think of anything that had actually been discussed that morning, besides that Guillaume and Jean had disagreed completely about the entire thing.

“You know I’ll agree to anything when I’m hungover if it gets me a nap,” he reminded his friend.  “What did I agree to?  It couldn’t have been that bad.”

The look on Guillaume’s face told him that, yeah, it was that bad.  Gabriel sat up, fumbling on the nightstand for his glasses.

“What did I agree to?” he repeated.

Guillaume was silent for a long moment, sinking onto the bed beside Gabriel.  “He wants to torture them.”

Gabriel felt his stomach drop.  Torture?  That wasn’t something he’d signed up for.  Sure, he knew how to do it, and how to survive it without spilling any secrets.  You couldn’t graduate from the Academy unless you excelled at both.

But actually performing it on people?  On their subjects?  On the people who had volunteered their lives to push the AKUMA Program along?  They at least deserved the respect of as painful a death as they could have, after giving so much to the chance of becoming the first successful supersoldier.

They didn’t deserve to spend the days, or weeks, or months that they had left being tortured.

But he’d agreed.  They’d decided way back when they’d first been put in charge of the program that decisions would be made based on a vote, and that the decisions made through votes were final unless they unanimously agreed to have a revote.

And, from Jean’s tone during the argument that morning, Gabriel wouldn’t bet on him agreeing to a revote.

“Fuck,” he muttered, pushing off the bed and searching the floor for his clothes.  “Shit.  I’ll get him to take a revote, Gui.  I wasn’t listening this morning, so my vote shouldn’t count.  Shit, I’m so sorry.”

It was a quick run through the now-memorized hallways of the mansion to the basement, and Gabriel threw the door wide, protest dying on his lips at the sight that was waiting for him.

Jean had found another subject, apparently, because there was a woman strapped to some sort of machine that Gabriel had never seen in the mansion before.  He knew what it was—they’d practiced with all sorts of torture devices back in the Academy—but he’d never expected to see it here, in Jean’s house.  Where had he even gotten it?

If he remembered correctly—and her screams were making him think he was—thousands of volts of electricity were currently running through the woman’s body.

“Jean!  Stop!”

Jean glanced up, finally noticing Gabriel in the doorway.  He sighed, and turned off the machine, leaving the woman whimpering as he crossed the lab.

“Less hungover?” he questioned, an eyebrow raised.

Gabriel’s eyes were still trained on the woman, their newest subject, apparently.  “What are you doing?”

Jean crossed his arms.  “Testing the subject’s limits.”

“That’s not what I meant.”  Gabriel narrowed his eyes, turning them on Jean.  “You can’t do this.  It’s torture!  It’s illegal!”

“You voted for it,” Jean pointed out, moving back towards the woman.  “And I’m not agreeing to a revote, so we’re continuing with this.”

“I was hungover!”  Gabriel threw his arms wide.  “You know I didn’t listen to a single thing during the meeting.  My vote shouldn’t count!”

Jean shrugged, waving a dismissive hand.  “Fortunately, it does count.”

 

_Three Months Later_

 

A knock sounded on his door, and Gabriel didn’t glance up from the design for a dress he was working on as he bid the knocker entrance.

“Sir, they’re about to start the photoshoot for the fall line and want to know if you want to oversee it.”

Gabriel put a final line on the dress and glanced up, smiling at not only Nathalie but also Guillaume.

“You can oversee it, if you’re up to it,” he said.  “Your brother looks like he wants to talk.”

“Of course, sir,” Nathalie said, nodding.  “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

She left, and Guillaume raised an eyebrow as he made his way to sit on the other side of Gabriel’s desk.

“Sir?” he repeated, and Gabriel shrugged.

“She wants to keep up appearances for our cover,” he explained.  “Nat’s always been one to completely immerse herself in her cover.”

Guillaume nodded, glancing around the office.  “I can’t believe you actually became a world famous fashion designer,” he said.  “And you’ve only had, what?  One line out?”  Gabriel shrugged.  “This place isn’t too shabby either.  Definitely bigger than Jean’s mansion.”

“Remind me to show you the headquarters underneath later,” Gabriel said, leaning back in his chair.  “You’ll get your bakery one day, too.”

Guillaume shifted, any mirth dropping from his face.  “That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about,” he said, taking a deep breath.  “I can’t work with Jean anymore.  I don’t care what he thinks.  Torture hasn’t been pushing the program along any faster.”

Gabriel nodded.  “Me neither,” he agreed.  “But what are we supposed to do?  If we’re not there to reign him in, who knows what he’ll do.”

“That’s my point,” Guillaume argued.  “You’ve got Adele now.  What happens when you get married and those kids you’re always talking about come along?  Do you really want their papa to be disappearing for days at a time to torture people?”

Gabriel bit his lip glancing down at the dress.  It was one of many he’d designed for Adele to hopefully wear one day.  He had dozens now.  Maybe one day, when he finally worked up the nerve to propose and she’d chosen her favourite, he’d make a wedding line to use the others.

“Of course I don’t want that,” he said quietly.  It was getting hard enough trying to justify his absences to Fu and Adele, and guys’ weekend wasn’t going to cut it soon.  “But what do we tell Jean?  He’s going to be furious, and he’s not stable, Gui.  I can’t risk him doing something to Adele to get back at me.”

Guillaume shook his head.  “I don’t know, Gabe,” he agreed.  “But I know what I’m going to do.  I just need your help.”

Something in Guillaume’s tone made Gabriel push his sketches away, watching his friend in concern.

“I want to quit the agency.”  Guillaume avoided his friend’s eyes, focusing instead on a thread of his sweater he was fiddling with.  “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and being an agent just isn’t for me.  My parents died doing this, and so did yours, and Nathalie is so into the job that she probably will, too.  Hell, your life plans end with dying in a fiery explosion with Adele.

“You and Nat are cut out for this.  I’m not.  And I’m okay with that.”  Guillaume nodded to himself, glancing back up at Gabriel.  “I want a normal life, with my bakery, and, if I’m going to have a wife and some kids one day, I don’t want to leave them wondering if I’ll be coming home every night, or if this will be the day they find out that Papa died in some horrible, classified way and they’ll never find out what really happened.”

Gabriel nodded.  These weren’t exactly new concerns with Guillaume.  When their parents had died, and the agency had shoved the two of them and Nathalie in a dorm room together, he’d been furious that he couldn’t even know the details of the mission they’d been on.  That had always been an issue for Guillaume, and Gabriel had been expecting him to quit the agency for years.

“Okay,” he agreed.  “Have you told Nathalie?”

Guillaume paused before shaking his head.  “I was going to tell her after I got the okay from Fu,” he said.  “But he won’t agree.  Apparently I’m too much of an asset for MIRACULOUS to lose.”

“Obviously.  You’re fantastic.”  Gabriel frowned.  “But that’s not exactly fair.  They can’t force you to stay if you don’t want to.  And Jean quit, and they didn’t do anything about it.”

“Jean’s unstable,” Guillaume reminded him.  “We were just too close to him to notice until it was too late.  They were probably happy to see him quit.”

Gabriel hummed in agreement.  “But that still doesn’t help you,” he pointed out.  “What are you going to do?  Even if you can get them to let you quit, that doesn’t help with Jean when you leave AKUMA.”

Guillaume sighed, leaning forward to steeple his hands on the desk.  “That’s what I need your help with,” he said.  “If you don’t want to help with this, I’ll figure something else out, but I’ve been thinking and it’s probably the best option.”  Gabriel nodded for him to continue, brow creasing in concern.  “I want you to help me fake my death.  If Guillaume Sancoeur dies on a mission, the agency can’t force me to keep working, and Jean can’t come after me for quitting on him.”

Gabriel was silent, considering.  “You’ve thought about this a lot?” he repeated, and Guillaume nodded.  Gabriel sighed.  “I’ll have to consider it.  This is asking a lot, Gui.”

Guillaume let out a breath.  “Thank you, Gabe,” he said, smiling softly.  “Just, please, don’t tell anyone.  You’re the only one I want to know the truth.”

“Not Nathalie?”

Guillaume looked down, fiddling with the thread again.  “She’s still in love with him, Gabe,” he said, voice quiet.  “He hasn’t so much as sent her a letter in almost two months, but she’s still holding out for him.  What if she thinks telling him will get him back?”  He shook his head.  “She can’t know.  Not yet.  Not until you think there’s absolutely no chance she’ll tell him.”

Gabriel nodded again, and Guillaume stood, heading back towards the door.  “I’ll let you know.”

*********

“How did you get Fu to agree to two extra weeks of surveillance?” Guillaume wondered as they hacked through undergrowth with machetes.  “Fu never agrees to extra anything.”

Gabriel shrugged, ducking under a low-hanging branch.  “ _Gabriel_ is going to be the new Paris headquarters,” he reminded him.  “Apparently that means I have to start making executive decisions, and if I thought we needed two weeks of surveillance, then we needed two weeks of surveillance.”

“Nice.”  They hacked on in silence for a few minutes, following their mental compasses to the cave that should be around.  “How’d you get _him_ to do this anyway?”

“I designed the outfits for his latest wedding.  He owes me a favour.”  Gabriel grinned at his friend, and it only took a few more minutes before they found the cave.

“You’re late.”

“And you could have had a path cleared or something,” Gabriel deadpanned back before grinning at the man who had greeted him.

Jagged wrapped him in a hug, pounding him on the back.  “It’s been too long, Gabe.”

“I’m not the one who disappears without a trace every few months,” Gabriel pointed out, and Jagged shrugged.

“Meet my associates.”  Jagged waved a hand at the women leaning against the table in the centre of the cave, one with a bright green Mohawk and the other with a purple bob.  “Fang and Penny.  Fang and Penny, meet Gabe from kindergarten, and his friend whose name is not important.”  He turned his wild grin on Guillaume.  “You won’t have it for much longer anyway.”

 

_Three Weeks Later_

 

Gabriel and the man who used to be Guillaume stood, watching the burning remains of the illegal weapons manufacturing plant they’d just busted.  Everything had gone well, and they hadn’t even had to fake the explosion, only needing to plant evidence of Guillaume being part of said explosion.  It wasn’t hard to come by, with all the leftover hair and nails and skin and other body matter that Jagged had left over from his transformation.

But now it was done.  The mission was over, and Gabriel would be heading back on the chopper that had brought them out, and Guillaume would be walking for a day or so to the closest town to start his new life.

Gabriel took a deep breath, turning to survey the man his friend had become.  If you didn’t know he used to be Guillaume, you wouldn’t be able to tell.  Even his eyes had changed colour.

It was good that Jagged had done such a good job.  If Guillaume had looked too much like himself, the whole façade would have been for nothing.

“What?”  Guillaume offered him a grin, waggling his newly thick eyebrows.  “See something you like?”

Gabriel snorted.  “You should shave the moustache.”

Guillaume gasped in mock outrage, pressing a hand to his chest.  “I _like_ the moustache.”

Gabriel chuckled, and pulled his friend into a hug.  “I’m gonna miss you, Gui,” he whispered, reminding himself that it was okay to cry.  Crying would actually be good in this case.  Having puffy eyes when he got back would help.

“Me too.”  Guillaume squeezed him tighter for a long moment before releasing him and stepping back with a watery grin.  “Promise you’ll come buy my pastries?”

Gabriel nodded.  “Promise you’ll get your future fiancée to buy her wedding dress from me?”

Guillaume shook his head.  “No one’s going to be able to afford a Gabriel in a few years,” he pointed out, and Gabriel laughed.  “Take care of Nat for me.  Get her to break up with Jean if you can.”

“I will.  And I’ll tell her as soon as it’s safe,” he promised, and Guillaume nodded before disappearing into the woods.

*********

Nathalie met him at the helipad, and he felt his stomach sink as he powered down the chopper.

“Adele wanted to meet you but she’s in a fitting,” she said as soon as he’d stepped a foot outside.  Her hands flew over the paper in her hands as she rattled off his schedule.  “After you’re finished in debriefing, you’ve got a meeting with marketing about the fall line.  I would have handled it, but they insisted on speaking with you.  Then you need to approve the fabrics for—” She trailed off, eyes darting around the helipad.  “Where’s Gui?”

Gabriel took a shaky breath, reaching a hand out towards her shoulder.  “Nat, I’m sorry—”

Nathalie stepped out of his reach, clutching the schedule close to her chest and rapidly shaking her head.  “No,” she breathed.  “No, Gabe.  You don’t get to tell me what I think you’re going to.  You’re not—you’re not allowed to.  He has to be here somewhere, right?  He’s still in the chopper, isn’t he?”

He swallowed, shaking his head.  “Nat—”

“No!”  The schedule fell to the ground, papers scattering everywhere.  “No, no, no.  Gabe, no.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, tears threatening to escape his eyes.  “I’m so, so, sorry, Nat.”

“No.”  Nathalie collapsed to her knees, clutching at the fabric of her pants with shaking hands.

Gabriel knelt at her side, wrapping his arms around her.  “I’m sorry.”

*********

Gabriel pressed his head into his hand, staring down into his drink.  His suit was too stuffy, and the whole day was making his head hurt.  It was bad enough having to tell everyone, tell Nathalie, that Guillaume was dead.  But to stand up at his funeral and talk about what a great person he was?  To act like he didn’t know that he’d opened a bakery a few streets over from his own mansion?  All Gabriel wanted to do was get drunk enough to pass out and not think anymore.

The bar shook slightly as someone sat in the seat next to him, and suddenly Gabriel was being yanked upwards.

“Cut the crap, Gabe,” Jean growled, eyes narrowing as he glared at his friend.  “I know Guillaume’s not really dead, and I know you know where he is.”

Gabriel blinked slowly, both too drunk and not drunk enough to deal with this.  “I watched him explode, Jean,” he said, voice flat.  “I know for a fact that Guillaume is dead.”  He pulled away, turning back to his drink.  “I would have thought you’d have enough respect to at least come to his funeral.”

“We both know you’re lying.”  Jean pushed away from the bar.  “You can let Gui know that I won’t stop until I find him.”

Jean left, and Gabriel let his head fall onto the bar.  It looked like he’d be buying his pastries elsewhere for a few months.

 

_Two Months Later_

 

“I was rereading these files, and a factor we haven’t seemed to have taken into consideration is the subjects’ age.”  Gabriel came through the doorway, nose still in said files and his headphones still on his ears.  “I think we should—”

He broke off as he glanced up, finally taking in the scene of the lab.  A live man was strapped to the table.  IVs were stuck in his arms, and a gag was in his mouth.

And his chest was cut wide open, skin pulled back to reveal ribs and flesh and whatever other horrors Jean was performing.  Jean himself was standing over him, a scalpel in one hand and a Taser in the other.

Gabriel pushed the headphones off his head, and the man’s muffled screams registered.

“What the hell, Jean?” he yelled, throwing the file to the floor.  “You can’t—we can’t—what?”

Jean placed his tools down, glancing calmly at Gabriel.  “What was that you were saying?” he asked.  “Something about age?”

Gabriel blinked at him, backing away towards the door.  “No,” he said.  “I can’t do this, Jean.  You can’t treat people like this.”

“He’s not a person,” Jean insisted.  “He’s a subject.”

Gabriel shook his head.  “They’re always people.”  He took another step back.  “You need to remember that, Jean.  I can’t work on AKUMA anymore if you’re going to be treating the subjects like this.  I can’t do this.”

He turned and ran before Jean could come up with a response.

*********

The door crashed open, and Nathalie strode across the office, planting her hands on his desk and leveling him with a glare.

“I need to speak to Jean.”

Gabriel opened his mouth to point out that nobody knew where Jean was, but Nathalie continued before he could spout the lie for the thousandth time.

“Don’t spout that crap about not knowing where he is,” she spat.  “I’m not stupid, you know, Gabe.  I know you three continued AKUMA somewhere after it was cut.  I know you know where he is, and I need to speak with him.”

Gabriel hesitated a moment before deciding to stop pretending.  “I don’t think that’s safe,” he said slowly.  “You haven’t seen what he’s been like the last few months, and—”

“That’s exactly why I need to speak with him!”  Nathalie pushed off the desk, throwing her arms in the air.  “I barely saw him in the months before Gui...and I’ve seen him maybe three times since then.  I’m sick of it.  I’m not going to let him treat me like this anymore.  He can either come back and actually be in my life like a boyfriend is supposed to be, or I’m cutting him out completely.”  She deflated slightly, eyes dropping to the ground.  “I can’t let him break my heart anymore.”

He stared at her for a long moment, debating the pros and cons of finally revealing Jean’s secret house to Nathalie.  There was always the chance that Jean could be doing something horrific in the basement, but that could work in his favour.  If Nathalie knew what he was really like lately, she wouldn’t want to be with him anymore.

“Okay.”

*********

“It was here yesterday,” Gabriel insisted, staring at the smouldering remains of the fire that had brought down the mansion.  “I was here yesterday, and I quit the program.”

Nathalie’s hand tightened on his arm as a firefighter made her way over.

“Did you live here?” she asked, and they shook their heads.

“Our friend did,” Gabriel said.  “Did he...?

“No one was in the building,” the firefighter said, and Gabriel found himself sighing in relief with Nathalie.  Even if he was on his way to being insane, Jean was still his friend.  “We didn’t find any bodies, either.  Your friend should get in touch with you soon.”

She walked away, and Nathalie let out a breath.

“We need to tell Fu,” she said, and Gabriel followed her gaze to the burnt remains of what was clearly, to them at least, a torture device.  “I don’t know what you guys were doing in there, but someone needs to find Jean before he does something he can’t undo."

 

**2000**

_March 29_

 

Tom Dupain-Cheng ran a hand over his face as he descended the steps into the bakery.  There was dust piled high on all the displays, and the shop hadn’t seen a customer in almost two weeks.  Twelve days, to be exact.

Twelve days since his life had come to a halt.

Twelve days since Marinette had been kidnapped.

It was his fault.  He knew it was, even if no one else would admit it.  He’d put her on the merry-go-round and walked a few steps away to get them a couple of hot dogs, and she was gone when he got back.  He’d _walked away._   That was the number one thing you should never do as a parent, and he’d done it, and now Marinette was gone.  She was alone and scared, and it was his fault.

He knew they’d have to open the bakery again soon, but not yet.  They spent their days on hunts that some organization had put together, scouring the city for her.  Hunts he knew would turn up fruitless, because they were unorganized and the people searching were untrained and didn’t have the experience necessary to actually find the missing girl.

He knew who would be able to find her, but he wasn’t going to him yet.

Two weeks, that’s what he’d decided.  Two weeks to find her on their own, and then he’d go to him.

Two more days.

He crouched down at the door, picking up the mail that had fallen through the slot, and headed back upstairs, flipping through the pile.

Sabine.  Tom.  Tom.  Sabine.  Sabine.  Sabine.  Tom.  Guillaume.  Tom.  Sabine.  T—

Tom froze, flipping back to the letter, the name glaring out at him from the envelope.

_Guillaume Sancoeur_

His hand shook as he stared at the familiar font.  It had been too long to remember which of his friends had that precise writing, but he knew it was one of them.

It didn’t make any sense.  No one had used that name in eight years.  Other than seeing Gabriel or Nathalie or Adele a couple of times in the bakery over the years, he hadn’t seen anyone from his old life since 1992.

As far as he knew, Gabriel was still the only one who knew he was alive.  But he knew that if Gabriel had suddenly decided to contact him, he wouldn’t be so obvious about it.

So what was this?

He flipped the envelope over, peeling open the flap.  He pulled a piece of paper from inside, the rest of the mail drifting to the ground as the words swam before him.

_Hello, Gui._  
_I told Gabe I’d find you._  
_My sincerest thanks for your continued contribution to the AKUMA Program.  
_ _– Jean_

Tom’s heart jumped to his throat.  What the hell did that mean?  He hadn’t contributed to AKUMA in almost a decade.  What was Jean talking about?

He pulled open the envelope again, pulling out a single photograph.  The wall was the only thing that kept him standing as he stared at it in horror.  Marinette, strapped into a machine that’s use he knew all too well, tears streaming down her face and mouth opened in a scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that was worth the wait! Part Two of the original AKUMA squad flashback will be coming next week (unless my internet decides to be an asshole again) and will pick up immediately after the end of this chapter.  
> Hopefully everybody enjoyed!  
> Comments are life and asks are golden!  
> You can find me on Tumblr at probably-voldemort :)


	7. I'm (Not) Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The flashback continues as the all-star team of Gui-Tom, Gabe, Nat, Adele, and Baby Adrien try to track down Jean and get Marinette back before it's too late. But things don't always go according to plan...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been more like two weeks here. I found out while rereading this chapter last Monday that the entirety of 2008 was just a big, bolded **WRITE THIS PART LATER** with a lot of exclamation points so I had to write that part and I've been feeling generally pretty gross for the last week and have had a stomach thing going on so the writing didn't happen too fast. And then my laptop decided to be a butt and not charge from Thursday to Sunday so I couldn't write on those days. But it's done now! 
> 
> Also before we get into this, I should let you know that the next update will most likely be coming around mid-late July. It'll be out as soon as I finish writing the entirety of the rest of Not Ready (~8 more chapters) and after I finish writing my fic for the Summer Exchange. So most likely July, if not early August. Unless I need a break from Not Ready and feel like writing the massive angst that will be coming with the next chapter of this. We'll see. But look for it in late July most likely.
> 
> So, without further ado, here is the second half of the flashback chapter(s)! Please enjoy.

**2000**

_March 29_

 

He pressed the button far too many times than was polite, but he couldn’t care less about potentially bothering Gabriel’s personal assistant, whoever that may be now.  Someone had to answer.  There were so many people in Gabriel eight years ago, and the company had only gotten more prominent since.  Someone had to be there to open the gate.

_“Can I help you?”_

Tom sobbed in relief at the familiar voice, clutching the bars on the gate.  “Nat, please.  I need to talk to Gabe.  It’s important.”

_“I’m sure it is.  Do you have an appointment?”_

He sniffed and wiped at his eyes, trying to look a little more put together.  “No,” he said.  “But tell him Tom Dupain-Cheng is here to see him.  He’ll see me.”

_“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t let you in without an appointment—”_

“Just tell him!” he insisted, and the line was silent for so long that he was afraid Nathalie had left.

But then the gate swung open, and he raced up the driveway and the steps.  Nathalie barely had time to open the front door before he was barrelling inside.

“M. Agreste is in his office,” she started, but Tom didn’t wait for anything else, taking off at a run and hoping the office was still in the same place it had been when Gabriel first got the place.

*********

Gabriel straightened the papers on his desk, unexplainably nervous to see his friend for the first time in eight years while acknowledging they knew each other.  Because that was why Guillaume— _Tom_ , he was Tom now—was here, right?  He wouldn’t come here if they were going to be Tom the Baker and Gabriel the Guy Buying Pastries.

His eyes caught on a paper at the corner of the desk, a newspaper clipping of a little girl who’d gone missing, and he knew.  Gui— _Tom_ —wasn’t here on some sort of social call, or because he’d decided that it’d been long enough and he wanted to tell Nathalie.  He was here because his daughter had been kidnapped and he wanted Gabriel and MIRACULOUS’s help finding her.

He nodded once, pausing his tidying to dig through a drawer on his desk, searching for the folder he’d been putting together during his unofficial investigation into the kidnapping of Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

The door crashed open before he found it, and he frowned, straightening up.

“Nathalie, what—?”

It wasn’t Nathalie.

Guillaume was panting, eyes wild as he surveyed the room.  He was wearing pyjamas and mismatched shoes, and generally looked as much a wreck as Gabriel figured he would be in the same situation.

He offered him a smile.  “You kept the moustache.”

Guillaume didn’t smile back, instead crossing the few steps to the desk and thrusting out an envelope.

“Sir, I said you couldn’t—” Nathalie entered, scowling at Guillaume before turning her gaze on Gabriel.  “I’m sorry, sir.  He wouldn’t wait.”

“Its fine,” Gabriel assured her, taking the offered envelope.  Guillaume started pacing, running his hands through his hair, and Nathalie watched him with concern.

Gabriel glanced down at the envelope, turning it over in his hands.  He stared for a long moment at the name written there, before looking back up at Guillaume.

“What is this?”

Guillaume paused his pacing for a moment, watery eyes finding Gabriel’s.  “He took her, Gabe,” he whispered, voice broken.  “He took her, and I need your help.”

Gabriel’s eyes turned down again, and he pulled the contents out of the envelope, first the picture and then the note.

“Fuck,” he muttered, eyes scanning the note again and again.  “Shit.  Holy fucking shit, Gui.”

Nathalie shuffled near the door, brows drawn together as she glanced between the two of them.  “Sir?”

Gabriel looked up again, eyes darting briefly to Guillaume before settling on Nathalie.  “Find Adele,” he ordered, forcing his grip on the photo to loosen before he tore it.  “Find Adele and bring her here and we’ll explain everything.”  Nathalie hesitated only a moment before leaving, and Gabriel turned back to Guillaume.  “We’re going to get her back, but I need their help.”

Guillaume nodded rapidly, sinking into the seat opposite Gabriel’s.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered, eyes welling over as he stared down at his hands.  “Gabe, what Jean did to our subjects eight years ago was horrible, and he was only getting more and more insane.  Who knows what he’s doing to them now, to my Marinette.”

Gabriel sucked in a breath, rounding the desk to sit beside his friend.  “We’ll get her back, Gui,” he promised.

Guillaume nodded, closing his eyes.  “He’s not still at the house, is he?”

“No.”  Gabriel glanced at the picture again, anger towards Jean rising.  Unless he’d had some huge breakthrough since he quit, Marinette didn’t have long left even if they found her in the next few days.  He knew Guillaume knew that, too, so he didn’t bring it up.  “He burnt it down the day after I quit.”

Guillaume nodded again, and Gabriel held his arm in a poor attempt at comfort.  What the hell were you supposed to say to someone who’d just found out their ex-friend from their ex-life had kidnapped their daughter for a most-likely lethal experiment?

It wasn’t long before Nathalie returned, Adele following behind with two year old Adrien on her hip.

Guillaume glanced up, wiping his eyes and attempting a smile.  “I heard you finally married Adele.  And that must be Adrien.  He’s about Ma-Marinette’s age, right?”

Gabriel met his wife’s and assistant’s eyes for a moment before turning back to Guillaume.  “Yeah,” he said, patting his arm gently.  “We’re gonna put him into public school so he can meet her.”

Guillaume’s sad smile disappeared and he looked down again.  “That would’ve been nice.”

“Gabriel.”  Gabriel looked back up at his wife, who was frowning at him.  “A word?”

He nodded, patting Guillaume’s arm again and standing up.  He stopped in front of Adele and Nathalie, taking Adrien into his arms when the toddler reached out.

“What is the baker doing here?” Adele whispered, gesturing at Guillaume.  “And why is this important?  I was in the middle of training.”

“So.”  He drew out the syllable, trying to figure out where to start.  But he had to get this over with, because Guillaume’s daughter’s life was on the line here.  Would it maybe be better to just rip off the Band-Aid?  He adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath, glancing quickly at the back of Guillaume’s head, and decided to go for it.

“Remember how I told everyone that Gui died in that explosion, like, eight years ago?”

From the looks on their faces, he probably could have been a little more sensitive.

“Gabe.”  Nathalie’s voice was quiet, her eyes wide as she stared at him.  “What are you saying?  What does Gui have to do with anything?”

Gabriel nodded, pulling Adrien’s hand out of his ear.  “I might have kind of lied about him being dead,” he said, cringing at his words.  Nathalie paled, her hand shooting out to grab onto Adele’s.

“Gabe, what?” Adele hissed, wrapping her arm around Nathalie.  “Are you saying that Gui is _alive_ and you didn’t _tell us?”_

“I wanted to tell you.”  Their eyes snapped to Guillaume, who had come up behind Gabriel.  His eyes locked on Nathalie’s.  “I wanted to tell you so badly, Nat, but you were in love with Jean.  I couldn’t risk him finding out.”

Nathalie’s eyes widened further, darting around Guillaume’s face.  “Gui?” she breathed, and he nodded.  Nathalie’s mouth moved in silent words before she freed herself from Adele’s hold, wrapping her arms around Guillaume’s neck with a sob.  Guillaume clutched her back, whispering apologies into her hair.

Gabriel looked away, meeting Adele’s eyes and gesturing with his head to move towards his desk.

“What’s going on, Gabe?” she whispered, pulling Adrien back to her own hip.  “Why did you help Gui fake his death?  Why is he here?”

His hands now free, Gabriel picked the envelope back up, fiddling with the edge.  “He wanted out of the agency, and Fu refused,” he explained.  “And we were afraid Jean would go after him if he left AKUMA.  It was the best plan we could come up with.”  He let out an angry breath, shaking the envelope.  “It was all for nothing, though, because apparently it didn’t work.”

Adele blinked at him slowly, lowering the wiggling Adrien to the ground.  “What are you saying, Gabe?”

“This showed up at his house this morning,” he told her, showing her the writing on the envelope.  Adele’s eyes widened.

“That’s...” She trailed off, but Gabriel nodded.  She grabbed it from his hand, pulling out the note.  “What continued contribution?  I thought you faked his death so he could get out of AKUMA.”

Gabriel took the envelope back, pulling out the photo and handing it to her.  Adele sucked in a breath.

“She’s his daughter,” he said, and Adele’s eyes darted to his.  “Jean took her two weeks ago.”

Adele’s hand flew to her mouth.  “Oh my god.”

Gabriel ran a hand through his hair, glancing over his shoulder at where Guillaume and Nathalie were now quietly talking.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said, turning back to Adele.  Adrien tugged at his pant leg, and he picked him up.  “We all know how the AKUMA Program works.  She could already be dead.”

Adele shook her head.  “We’re going to be optimistic,” she said, returning the photo to the desk.  “We’re going to find her and everything’ll be fine.”

Gabriel nodded, handing off Adrien and crouching to continue digging through the drawer.

Nathalie’s hands slammed down on the desk as he stood, her glare focused on Gabriel.  “What are we doing to get my niece back?” she asked.  Her eyes were rimmed in red, her face still too pale, but everyone chose to ignore it.  “I’m going to kill Jean, by the way.  He can rot in hell.”

Gabriel opted to ignore that for now, instead tossing the thick folder he’d retrieved onto his desk.  “Here’s what I’ve gathered so far.” He offered Guillaume a smile when their eyes met.  “I wanted to do what I could to help.  It’s all been dead ends so far, but we should be able to make some progress now that we know we’re looking for Jean.  We’ll find her, Gui.”

Guillaume clasped his hand.  “Thank you,” he said, returning the smile as best as he could.  “And it’s Tom now.”

 

_October 3_

 

Seven months.  It had been almost seven months since Jean had taken Marinette, and they were no closer to finding her.

She was still alive, Tom knew, or at least assumed.  He’d received so many pictures and videos of torture and tests over the last seven months that he almost hoped she wasn’t, and he hated himself for it.

But he knew Jean, and he knew that Jean held grudges and that he wouldn’t hesitate to let Tom know in most likely some horrifying way that she’d finally succumbed to the experiment.

But the circumstances stood.  Marinette had been gone for almost seven months, and they hadn’t made any progress.

It would be easier, he knew, if he let Gabriel tell Fu the real reason they suspected that Jean had Marinette.  As it was, all they had to go on were the “anonymous” pictures that Nathalie had “overseen” Tom Dupain-Cheng opening in the mail one morning while she was at the bakery.  He didn’t know about the note, or Tom’s real identity, or any other information that might actually make Fu make the case a priority.

But he also knew that telling Fu who he was would make everything more complicated.  There would be the interrogations, and most likely imprisonment considering he broke so many laws in faking his death.  Gabriel would definitely be punished for helping him and for keeping it a secret for all these years, and Nathalie and Adele, too, unless they could convince them that they didn’t know.

If he told Fu that he was Guillaume, the focus would be less on finding Marinette than it was even now.

So he couldn’t tell him.  Not now, and maybe not ever.

Which kept their search and rescue mission at a team of four—five, if you counted Adrien.

He couldn’t bring himself to tell Sabine, either, couldn’t face her inevitable anger that this was his fault.  So she didn’t know anything.  She hadn’t seen the pictures, or any vague and snide notes Jean had sent.  She didn’t know that he knew where Marinette was, more or less, that it was a miracle she hadn’t been killed from the experiment yet.  She didn’t know that Guillaume Sancoeur was even a person, let alone her husband, past the knowledge that they sometimes received his mail by mistake.

He hated lying to her, but he didn’t know what else to do.

So they went on with their lives.  They worked at the bakery during the day.  Sabine went to a support group three nights a week, while Tom went to bowling club with Gabe From Lycée.  They went to another support group together the other two nights, and the weekends were spent trying to pull themselves back together and see if there was anything they could have possibly missed that could help them find Marinette.

But it had been seven months.  The police all but told them months ago that chances were she was dead.  She was no longer a priority case, and he could sense that even Sabine was starting to lose hope.

Tom sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stared into his coffee.  The bakery had been busy that day, and they were getting ready to head out.  It was Friday night, which meant support group for Sabine and bowling club for Tom.  Or, it would have, if the Agrestes and Nathalie hadn’t had an important fashion show that night.

So Tom’s night would be spent running over files he’d hidden in Marinette’s room, searching for something, anything that would tell them where Jean was.

Or one of their old interns, he mused, adding more sugar.  Sure, Gabriel had said they were dead ends, but it wouldn’t hurt for Tom to do some digging of his own.

Nooroo, Gabriel had said, had been sent out undercover just after Jean had disappeared, with the goal to gain his trust and integrate himself back into the program.  He’d found him after a month or so, but they’d lost all communication a few weeks later.

Then they’d sent Tikki and Plagg, in ’95, with the same hopes.  But they’d disappeared entirely before they’d even found Jean.

As far as the agency was concerned, Nooroo, Tikki, and Plagg were most likely dead.  From the whole lot of nothing Gabriel and the others had been able to pull up on them since their disappearance, they tended to agree.

Tom, however, wasn’t so sure.  There was always a chance they’d missed something, and if that something was the key to finding Marinette, he was going to find it.

He polished off his coffee and pushed away from the table, moving to busy himself with getting ready for the bowling night that wasn’t happening until Sabine left.

His wife came through the door that lead to the bakery, frowning at something in her hands.

“Did a Guillaume Sancoeur use to live here?” she wondered aloud, waving an envelope at Tom.  “We keep getting his mail.”

Tom swallowed heavily, pulling the letter from her hands.  It was heavier than the others had been, and he hoped that didn’t mean it contained some sort of horrific proof of life.

“I’ll talk to the post office,” he promised, fighting the instinct to tear it open.  “Aren’t you going to be late?”

Sabine glanced at the clock confirming that, yes, she was going to be late if she didn’t leave right that second, and kissed her husband goodbye before rushing out of the house.

Tom stared at the envelope in his hands, the weight of it making his stomach sink in dread.  What was he going to find?  What was Jean sending him now?

He ripped it open, a letter flying out and landing somewhere under the counter, and a USB dropping to the floor by his feet.  The relief he felt at the contents being that instead of, say, a finger was unmeasurable, and he picked it up, taking the stairs to Marinette’s room two at a time.

He’d hidden a portable computer here months ago, something far above the tech the general public was given use of, something that could read a USB.

The time it took for the computer to start up was both far too long and far too short, and then he was plugging in the device.

_“No!  Stop!  It huwts!”_

His heart clenched as Marinette’s voice rang throughout the room, his eyes trained on his little girl.  She was strapped into a machine, one that administered shocks if he remembered correctly.  She was bigger than she had been when she’d disappeared, and there was no doubt in his mind that this was recent.  Tears streamed down her face, mingling with her blood, and she struggled against her bonds, but Tom could tell that she wasn’t being shocked at that moment.

_“Smile for the camera, little bug.  Your papa is watching.”_

Tom’s blood ran cold.  That was Jean’s voice, there was no question, even if the man hadn’t shown himself.  Marinette sniffled, her eyes finding the camera.

 _“Papa?”_   Her voice was quiet, and Tom had stopped breathing.  _“Papa, hewp me.  Pwease.”_

He could feel tears running silently down his cheeks, reaching out a finger to uselessly try to wipe hers away.  A scream tore from her throat, and Tom watched in horror as a shock ran through his daughter. 

Jean’s voice returned after she’d recovered.

 _“Don’t you want to show your papa your new trick?”_   Marinette shook her head, sobs wracking her body.  _“Don’t be like that, little bug.  You know what happens when you don’t listen, don’t you?”_   Marinette didn’t seem to care, her head shaking wildly as she continued to loudly sob.  _“Let’s make a deal, how’s that sound?  You show your new trick for your papa, and the test can be done for today.  Maybe they’ll even have some candy for you.  But if you refuse again, the test won’t be over.  What do you choose?”_

Tom was torn between heartbreak and fury as he watched Marinette attempt to calm herself, clearly choosing to do her new trick, whatever horrific thing that was going to be.

It took a few moments, but then Marinette whispered something too low for the microphone to pick up, and a bright pink light flashed over her right hand.  The light disappeared, replaced with a flamethrower, and Marinette pulled the trigger, fire obscuring the picture for the few moments before the video ended.

He stared at the blank screen for a few long minutes, silent sobs running through him.  What the hell did that mean?  Where had the flamethrower come from?  What was that pink light?  Why did Jean send him this?

As he started to get his tears under control, he remembered the letter that had come with the video, and hastily removed the USB, tucking the computer back into its hiding place.

He practically threw himself down the stairs, USB gripped tightly in his fist, and scanned the floor, finally spotting it tucked halfway under the fridge.

With shaking hands, he unfolded it, heart stopping as his eyes flew over the words.

 _It worked._  
_Thank you, Guillaume.  Your contribution made the AKUMA Program a success._  
_We can only hope Gabriel’s will yield the same results._

There was no signature, but he didn’t need one, the meaning of the words ringing clear.

He’d succeeded.  Jean had created a successful serum, and Marinette was the first AKUMA supersoldier.  That was what that pink light had been, where the flamethrower had come from.  She’d created it.  Whether from nothing, or by transporting it there, he didn’t know, but it hardly mattered.

Jean had a successful AKUMA serum.  He could create his own army of supersoldiers, and who knew what he’d do then.  And, if Marinette was anything to go off of, it was more powerful than they’d ever hoped.  Their aim had always been for strength, speed, and accelerated healing.  Marinette could create things, or teleport them to herself.  No one had planned for that.

His eyes fell back to the final line, breath catching in his throat.  His “contribution” was Marinette.  If Jean was making Gabriel have a contribution as well, then that meant—

He shoved the USB and the letter into his pocket, quickly shoving his feet into a pair of shoes and hoping beyond all hope that he wouldn’t be too late.

*********

“I’m telling you, I’m friends with Gabriel!  You have to let me in!”

The security guard sighed, crossing his arms.  “And I’m telling you, you’re the fifty seventh person to make that claim tonight,” he repeated.  “No ticket, no entry.”

Tom growled.  “It’s a matter of life or death!” he insisted.  “Just talk to Nathalie.  She’ll let me in.”

“Not happening.”

Tom ran a hand through his hair, sizing up the guard.  Back in the day, he could have taken him no problem.  But as it was, he was almost a decade out of practice—lugging bags of flour could only prepare you so much for hand-to-hand combat—and he wasn’t sure whether he was a guard from Gabriel, and, in turn, a MIRACULOUS agent, or just a regular security guard hired by whatever this place was that the fashion show was being held at.

Either way, fighting him wasn’t going to get him any closer to getting inside.

He glanced over the guard’s shoulder, searching the crowd lingering inside for a familiar face.

“Please, I need to get in,” he insisted.  “Gabe and I are friends from school.  Nat, too.  Just call her, and I promise she knows me.”

The guard snorted.  “I can guarantee you and M. Agreste were not friends in school,” he said, his tone betraying the hidden meaning.

He was MIRACULOUS, then.  Tom could work with that, even if it meant giving up the secrets he’d been keeping.  If it stopped the same thing that’s been happening to Marinettte from happening to Adrien, he’d risk it.

“Listen,” Tom said, glancing around to make sure no one was looking.  “You’re MIRACULOUS, aren’t you?”  The guard looked surprised, but Tom didn’t give him reason to pry.  “Me too.  Agent MR77492B.  I’ve been undercover for the last eight years, and I have time sensitive information I need to give to—”

“Tom?  What are you doing here?”

His eyes snapped to Nathalie, and he let out a sigh of relief.  “Nat!  I need to talk to Gabe!”

Nathalie glanced out of the side of her eye at the guard before looking back at Tom.  “It can’t wait until tomorrow?”

The guard shuffled.  “M. Agreste didn’t say anything about a MIRACULOUS agent dropping off information tonight,” he pointed out.

Nathalie’s eyes widened in shock before narrowing again.  “M. Agreste was not aware that a MIRACULOUS agent would have information to drop off.”  She grabbed Tom’s arm, pulling him past the guard.  “Gorille, M. Dupain-Cheng is with me.”

Tom spared a quick glance at the guard, before turning back to Nathalie.  “Where’s Adrien?”

Nathalie paused, blinking at him.  “What do you mean?”

“Where is he, Nat?”

“I think he’s with Adele,” Nathalie met the guard’s eye over Tom’s head, and then pulled her brother away from the crowds.  “Tom, what’s going on?”

“He sent this.”  Tom pulled the USB from his pocket, waving it at Nathalie.  “It’s a video, of Marinette, and—it worked, Nat.  AKUMA’s a success.  She’s alive and she—” He took a deep breath, shaking his head.  “It doesn’t matter.  Not right now.  He also sent this.”

He thrust the letter into her hands, and Nathalie’s eyes ran over it, her breath catching in her throat.  “Oh, god.”

“Where is he, Nat?” Tom pulled the letter back, stuffing it into his pocket.  “We gotta get to him.”

Nathalie didn’t answer, just turning to leave at a sprint that shouldn’t have been possible in her heels.  Tom ran after her, dodging around models and guests and getting many dirty looks.

“There!” he called, turning suddenly as Gabriel and Adele appeared in the crowd.  Nathalie skidded to a stop before changing direction.

“Tom?”  Gabriel glanced between the siblings as they all but bowled them over.  “Why are you here?  What’s going on?  Do you have a lead?”

Tom shook his head, breathing heavily after his sprint.  “Where’s Adrien?”

Gabriel and Adele shared a look.  “What?”

“Where is he?” Nathalie repeated, adjusting her glasses as she glanced to Adele.  “You had him.  Where did you put him?”

Gabriel glanced at the crowd, the people who were not-so-subtly listening, and took a step closer.  “Tell me what is going on,” he demanded through gritted teeth.  “Why do you need—”

“He sent a letter,” Tom interrupted, hand going to his pocket.  “The serum worked on Marinette, _AKUMA_ worked, and he’s going to take Adrien next.”

The Agrestes paled, and the scarf Adele had been holding drifted to the ground.

“He’s with the nanny,” Adele said before taking off, the others running with her.

It took ages and seconds to reach the room where the nanny was supposed to be watching Adrien.  Adele pushed open the door, letting out a sobbing gasp as she stumbled inside.  Gabriel, Nathalie, and Tom crashed into her as they pushed in.

The nanny was there, lying on the carpet, her throat slit open, blood spilt around her.  Adrien was nowhere to be seen, but there was a message, scrawled in blood on the wall:

 _THE AKUMA PROGRAM THANKS GABRIEL AGRESTE FOR HIS CONTRIBUTION_  


The dozen or so reporters who’d followed them down the hall pushed their way into the room, cameras flashing.

*********

Agent Henri Gorille couldn’t shake the weird vibe that agent—Tom?  Was that what Nathalie had called him?—had given him

from his mind.  Obviously whatever business he’d had with Gabriel had had to do with Adrien’s kidnapping.  Rumour was it was Ex-Agent Jean Papillon, whom no one had heard from in years.  Maybe if he’d believed that Tom had really known Gabriel, maybe he could have gotten there sooner and prevented it.

But the agent.  Tom.  Something about him had given Gorille a strange feeling, like he wasn’t quite telling the truth.

Which is what lead him to an encrypted computer in the middle of the night, typing in the number the agent had given him.  MR77492B.

The picture that popped up was a man who, though younger, was definitely not the man he’d seen tonight.  The build, the hair, everything was wrong.  Sancoeur, Guillaume, the name read, some back part of his mind pointing out that this was Nathalie’s brother.  Died in 1992.

So there was no way that the man tonight could be Sancoeur, right?  He’d been dead for eight years.  There was no way he’d come back from the dead to warn Gabriel that his son was going to be kidnapped, was there?

Gorille closed Sancoeur’s page, sure there was nothing there that could help him, and searched for Papillon instead.

This yielded better results, including the names of children suspected to be kidnapped by him.  Adrien Agreste was, of course, there, but the first name made Gorille pause.  Marinette Dupain-Cheng.  The name itself didn’t mean anything, but maybe the fake Sancoeur had something to do with her?  How else would he know that Adrien was going to be taken?

He clicked on her name, a picture flashing up.  A small girl who was no doubt Marinette, a woman who was most likely her mother, and the man who had claimed to be Sancoeur.  Tom Dupain-Cheng.

Even now, there was no resemblance, and Sancoeur had been dead for eight years.

Eight years.  He stopped, squinting at the man in the photo.  That was how long Tom had claimed to be under cover for.  Was is possible that he really was Sancoeur?  Nathalie had definitely seemed to know him, and he doubted she would have been okay with someone using her brother’s identification number.

So, chances were, for whatever top-secret reason, Sancoeur had been undercover for the last eight years as Tom Dupain-Cheng, and Papillon had most likely kidnapped both his daughter and Adrien.

Gorille’s blood boiled as he carefully exited out of the pages, double checking to make sure his searches weren’t recorded.

Papillon had no idea what he was doing to them, what it was like to lose a child, but Gorille did.

Three years ago, he’d been transferred into MIRACULOUS from the marines.  Three years ago, he’d had a wife and three daughters.  Three years ago, and old enemy had caught up with him, burning all four alive in their home while he was away on a mission.

Computer secure, he pushed away, heading towards Gabriel’s office, which he was sure was the headquarters for the search for Papillon.

He was going to make sure that Gabriel and Tom would never feel what he felt.

*********

The first pictures of Adrien arrived the next morning.

 

**2003**

 

Gabriel hurried through the motions of greeting and accepting the congratulations of his guests, eyes glancing to his watch every few seconds.  Why had so many people come to the fashion show?  Why did they want to talk to him?  It was infuriating, really, when all his concentration was taken up by the four word message Nathalie had received from Adele over an hour before:

_We found a lead._

Three years.  It had taken them three years to find any sort of lead, and of course he, Nathalie, and Gorille had to be all the way in Milan when it happened.  Thankfully, the mission was over and they were just finishing up the fashion aspect of their cover, so they could take the jet back after the last show tomorrow night.

For the first time in a long time, Gabriel actually felt hope that they could find his son.

After far too long, he finally made it to his hotel room, Nathalie and Gorille on his heels.  The phone was dialing the mansion’s number before they’d so much as taken off their shoes.

_“Bonjour.  You’ve reached Gabriel Fashions.  How may I—”_

“This is Gabriel,” he interrupted, not having the patience to listen to the receptionist’s spiel.  “I need to speak to my wife.”

_“Of course, sir.  Just give me a moment.”_

He spent the time it took for the receptionist to presumably track down Adele switching the phone onto speaker and ruining his meticulously styled hair.

_“Finally.”_

He snatched the phone back up at Adele’s voice, his heart catching in his throat.  “We were in the middle of a show,” he excused half-heartedly.  “What did you find?  Do you know where they are?”

There was some muffled shuffling on the other end, and it was Tom’s voice who answered.

_“Maybe.  One of Nooroo’s trackers came back online.  We don’t have an exact location, but we know the general area.  It might not mean anything.”_

_“But it’s more than we’ve had this whole time.”_   That was Adele.

Nathalie cleared her throat, stepping closer to the phone.  “You do realise there’s a high probability that this is a trap, don’t you?” she confirmed, glancing at Gabriel from the corner of her eye.  “Those trackers have been offline for a decade.  They’re not just going to randomly turn on.”

 _“It’s all we’ve got,”_ Adele argued.  _“It’s the only lead we’ve ever had.  We’re not going to let that go to waste.”_

“We’ll head out once we get home,” Gabriel agreed.  “Have everything ready for tomorrow evening, and we’ll leave immediately.”

 _“We_ are _leaving immediately.”_   Tom’s tone made his agreement seem less like one.  _“We don’t know how long this will stay up, and we can’t waste this.  We’re leaving now.”_

“No.”  Gabriel’s voice was firm despite his grip on the phone shaking.  “No, you’re not.  You’re going to wait for backup.”

 _“We can’t, Gabe.”_   It was Adele this time, her voice soft and reassuring.  _“We can’t wait for you to get back.  The signal might be gone by then, and we’d have lost our chance to find them.  We’re getting them back.”_

Gabriel let out a ragged breath.  This was a trap.  He knew it was.  Everyone knew it was.  But he’d have made exactly the same decision if he was there and Adele was here.

Nathalie grabbed his arm that held the phone, pulling it closer to his mouth.  “Then take other agents,” she demanded.  “Gui, I can’t lose you again.  Take bloody backup, or wait for us.  Those are your options.”

 _“I’m sorry, Nat,”_ Tom said, sounding every bit as sorry as he claimed to be.  _“We can’t waste time getting them up to date on the case.”_

“Yes, you can!” Gabriel insisted, running his free hand through his hair again.  “Tom, Adele, please.  Take some backup.  Tell someone where you’re going.”

 _“We left in the chopper over an hour ago_ ,” Adele said.  _“It’s too late for backup.  This is our only shot, Gabe, the only shot we’ve had in three years.  We can’t let it disappear.  I love you.”_

The phone disconnected, and Gabriel swore, throwing it at the wall and smashing it into dozens of pieces.

And that was the last anyone heard from Adele Agreste and Tom Dupain-Cheng.

 

_Eleven Days Later_

 

Fu made his way into Gabriel’s office without knocking, taking a seat in the chair across the desk.  Nathalie was already there, sitting next to Gabriel, her eyes just as red.

“I’ve just received word from the agents examining the bodies,” he said, and Gabriel flinched despite himself, forcing his dead eyes to meet his boss’s.  The bodies had arrived a few days after they’d disappeared, in a brightly wrapped box with a bow and a birthday card for Gabriel.  “We were able to ID the man she was with.”  Gabriel grunted tiredly, and Fu continued, leaning forward and leveling the both of them with an almost-glare.  “Can either of you tell me why the man’s DNA matches Guillaume Sancoeur?”

“Don’t be preposterous.”  Nathalie’s voice was flat and entirely unconvincing.  “My brother’s been dead for over a decade.”

Gabriel sighed, sinking back in his chair and rubbing at his temples.  “Nat, there’s no point,” he told her, his own voice just as lifeless, before turning back to Fu.  “Eleven years ago, I helped Gui fake his death.  He’s been Tom Dupain-Cheng since.  Three years ago, he came to me because Jean had kidnapped his daughter, Marinette.  And then he took Adrien.  He’s been using them as subjects for AKUMA, and we’ve been working to find them.”

Fu nodded, having put most of the pieces together on his way up from the morgue.  “And what, exactly, were Adele and Guillaume doing?” he asked.  “It wasn’t a sanctioned mission, and Guillaume was no longer an agent.”

“They found a lead.”  Fu’s eyes snapped to Nathalie, who was picking at the edge of her blazer and not looking at him.  “One of Nooroo’s trackers came back online.  We knew it was a trap, but they refused to wait for backup.”

Fu nodded gravely.  Clearly it had been a trap, but that went without saying.  He’d have to figure out some sort of excuse for Guillaume’s faked death, and why he’d had to spend the last eleven years undercover as whatever it was Tom did for a living.  He couldn’t arrest Gabriel and Nathalie for faking Guillaume’s death right now, not when they were the most invested and most likely to bring Jean Papillon down.

He cleared his throat after a few minutes, glancing briefly at the report in his hands.  “We still have no idea what caused their bodies to decay so quickly,” he said, not noticing the way the other agents flinched at his words.  “Guillaume’s, though, seems to be post-mortem, as his death is most likely to be the beheading.  They’ve narrowed it down to having been done by some form of thin wire.”

“Like a yo-yo string.”

Nathalie’s words were quiet, barely audible, and Gabriel flinched again as Fu looked on in confusion.

“What?”

Gabriel swallowed, pressing a few keys on his keyboard and turning the screen for Fu to see.

“This video arrived from Jean this morning, Sir,” he said, pressing play and immediately laying his arms on the table, hiding his face within them.  Nathalie, too, avoided looking at the screen, staring down at her feet.  Fu’s brows drew together in confusion before he turned his attention to the screen.

The video looked as though it was shot through a low-quality wildlife camera, the black and white picture slightly distorted.

Adele and Tom walked into view, Adele with her gun at the ready, Tom gazing down at the screen that was presumably telling them how close they were getting.

And then Tom had dropped the machine, hands clawing at his throat.  Adele’s eyes widened as she dropped into a fighting stance, glancing around them.

And there they were.  Two small children, no more than five years old.  One with dark pigtails and dressed in polka-dotted spandex, the other with fair hair and dressed like a cat.

The girl retracted her spotted yo-yo, causing Tom to fall to his knees, gasping for breath.  Adele’s gun fell, too, and her mouth moved in words they couldn’t hear as she took a shaky step towards the children.

They looked at each other in confusion, as if they couldn’t understand Adele’s words, and then the girl shrugged before lashing out with her yo-yo once more.

Tom scrabbled at his throat again, eyes wide as he stared at the girl.  Adele froze, her eyes darting between her friend and the kids.

And then the boy attacked, clawed fingers scraping out against Adele.  Her mouth opened in an unheard scream as the places he’d touched turned dark and started to bubble, skin and muscle tearing away from her bones as it started to crumple.

Tom’s head popped clean off his neck, tumbling to the grass.  The kids grinned, bumping their fists together, and the boy took a swipe at Tom’s body before they left, Adele still writhing on the ground in pain.

The video ended there, and Fu stared at the frozen picture in horror.

“Is that—?”

“Adrien and Marinette?” Gabriel lifted his head, silent tears still streaming down his face as he steadily avoided looking at the screen.  “Most likely.”

They sat in silence for a few long minutes, Nathalie’s shoulders shaking in her own quiet sobs.

They knew this would happen, from the day they found out that the experiment had worked on Marinette, the same day he stole Adrien.  They knew Jean was too angry at MIRACULOUS to try to worm his way back in with a successful program.  They knew that he’d most likely use his created supersoldiers to exact his revenge.

But somehow it hadn’t clicked that it would be Adrien doing this, that it would be Marinette, that their stolen children would be the ones pursuing that revenge in his name.

Adrien and Marinette had become the successes of AKUMA.  And Jean Papillon was going to turn them into his own personal monsters.

*********

Sabine Dupain-Cheng was half-heartedly watching some gossip program about the recent suicide of Adele Agreste, the supermodel wife of fashion mogul Gabriel Agreste who sometimes would stop in to buy pastries from the bakery, when the doorbell rang.

She quickly jumped to her feet, hurrying down the stairs.  Maybe this was Tom.  Maybe he’d finally returned from the spontaneous trip he’d decided to take with his bowling team almost two weeks ago.

But the man standing in the doorway was decidedly not her husband.

“Sabine Dupain-Cheng?” he confirmed, and Sabine nodded slowly, taking in the police uniform with rising horror.  “I’m Officer Henri Gorille.  May I come in?”

Sabine swallowed heavily, stepping aside to let the police officer pass.  “What is this about?” she asked, voice rising in worry.  Was it Tom?  Had something happened to him?  Or had they found something out about where Marinette has been?  What was he doing here?

“It’s your husband, Tom.”  She gripped the edge of the display case behind her, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.  “He was in a car accident.  I’m sorry, madam, but he didn’t make it.”

 

**2008**

_August 2_

 

The news was playing on the big screen in Gabriel’s office as he worked on a piece for next year’s spring line.  From the few words that managed to register through his concentration, it seemed a group of children were dressed as superheroes downtown, a couple arrondissements over.  Some sort of fluff piece thrown in between real stories, no doubt.

_“And now we’re back with Elise, who’s talking today with a real life superhero.”_

_“Thanks, Marcel.  I’m here with Ladybug, one of Paris’s new superheroes.  How are you doing today, Ladybug?”_

Gabriel scratched out a few lines, changing the angle the dress fell at.

_“I’m doing awesome!  We got to come out of the lab today, and I really like the sunshine.”_

The reporter laughed, and Gabriel shook his head.  Why were they even playing along?  What was the point of this?  Wasn’t there real news they could cover?

_“And you’re with the other superheroes here?  They’re your team?”_

The girl giggled.  _“Yeah!”_ she said, her voice bright and cheery.  _“We’re the AKUMAs, and we’re going to save the world!”_

Gabriel’s little bubble of design popped at her words, his eyes snapping to the screen.  The reporter barely registers, as his attention is on the girl next to her.  A girl dressed in a red outfit with black spots, a matching mask on her face and her dark hair pulled back into pigtails.  A girl who was grinning and waving at the camera.

The girl who’d been one of the two who’d killed Adele and Tom.  The girl who was Tom’s daughter.

 _“And what are your powers, Ladybug?”_ the reporter asked, because her blood wasn’t running cold, because she didn’t know what Marinette Dupain-Cheng being there most likely meant.

 _“I can create stuff that I need_ ,” she told the camera, her grin growing wider as she pulled a yo-yo off her hip.  _“It’s super cool.  Watch.  Lucky Charm!”_

And she threw the yo-yo in the air, the camera following to show the pink light shining out from it.  And then the yo-yo fell down, landing in her hand along with a large ax.

The reporter’s eyes widened before she got control over her reaction.  _“You said you can create things that you need?”_ she confirmed, and Marinette gave a bubbly nod.  _“What do you need that for?”_

Marinette didn’t answer, just giggled and grinned wider, and Gabriel swallowed heavily.  His finger inched towards the call button on his desk.

_“Thank you, Elaine.  We’re going to head over to Scarlet now, who’s with another of the new superheroes.”_

_“Thanks, Marcel.  This here is Chat Noir.”_

Gabriel missed whatever the reporter said next, having stopped breathing at the sight of ‘Chat Noir’.  He was a boy, about the same age as ‘Ladybug’, with blond hair.  He was dressed as a cat, a tail slashing behind him.

It was his eyes that caught Gabriel’s attention.  His eyes that looked like a cats, the ones that, despite that, were the exact shade of green as Adele’s.

_“How old are you, Chat?”_

Gabriel sunk into his chair at the sight of his son smiling, actually smiling and not just grimacing in pain, for the first time in eight years.  His smile was the same lopsided, goofy one it had been when he was toddler, and somehow that made this worse.

_“I’m ten.”_

_“And what about your superpowers?”_ the reporter pressed.  _“What kind of powers do you have?”_

Adrien laughed, and Gabriel clutched at the desk because he had to be dreaming.  This had to be a dream, because Adrien was there and he wasn’t in pain and he was smiling and _laughing_.

 _“Well, I’m purr-etty much a cat,”_ Adrien was saying, puffing out his chest as if being a cat was the coolest thing that anyone could be.  _“So I can do all the stuff that cats can do.  But I’ve also got this other paw-er that’s really claw-some, if I do say so myself.”_

Nathalie burst into the office then, wide eyed.  By the silent tears streaming down her friend’s face, she figured Gabriel had already seen the news, and settled in beside him to watch Adrien’s interview.

_“Can we see it?”_

Adrien’s grin grew, and he held up his right, clawed hand.  _“Cataclysm!”_

A dark blackness began to glow around Adrien’s hand, and it took only moments for Gabriel to work out its function.  He pushed himself up, his desk chair clattering to the ground, and sent Nathalie a desperate look.

“Send out everyone,” he ordered.  “I want every available agent on the scene now.  We’re taking these AKUMA in, before Jean can use them.”  His eyes were drawn back to Adrien on the screen.  “And we’re bringing them in alive.”

Nathalie nodded in agreement, and they rushed out of the office to rally the troops, the television still playing.

Adrien grinned, wider, wiggling his eyebrows and his cat ears and making the reporter laugh.  Two other AKUMAs were in the background, talking to their own reporters, one boy dressed in bright blue, yellow, and red, showing off the swords strapped to his back, and the other boy with large black and red wings, flying in loop-de-loops for the cameras.

_“What does it do?”_

Adrien glanced at something off camera, his grin turning wicked.  _“Want a demonstration?”_

The reporter grinned back.  _“I’d love one!”_

It was at that moment that the clock struck one, the bells sounding both within the Agreste Mansion and throughout the city.

Adrien lashed out, claws flashing in the afternoon sun, and struck the reporter across the face.  She screamed in pain, the skin turning black and bubbling like an acid.  Another cry from Adrien, and his hand was glowing again, the strike going to the reporter’s chest this time, her ribs crumbling and caving in.

The camera drooped, and the video continued on an angle.  Bubbles blew from the colourful boy’s mouth, exploding on contact.  The winged boy soared above, arrows flying into the gathered crowd.

The camera jerked upwards, Adrien’s grinning face taking up most of the screen.

 _“I wouldn’t run if I were you,”_ he warned, eyes focused on something just beyond the camera, presumably the camera operator.  _“The longer you film, the longer you live.”_

He released the camera and it straightened out, before the picture cut back to the newsroom, where the anchors were staring at each other in open mouthed shock.

*********

Gabriel and Nathalie sat with others, reviewing the footage of the attack.  How had this happened?  How had Jean managed to create seven supersoldiers of such immense power in only eight years?

Ladybug, Marinette, cutting through innocent people with her ax and her yo-yo.

Chat Noir, Adrien, knocking people down with his baton so he could burn them alive, rot off their skin, turn them to ashes with the light coming from his claws.

Lady Wifi, with power lines snaking around her, sparks flying, and infecting the technology around her.

The Bubbler, with his swords and his bubbles, trapping and blowing up the masses and striking down those who could evade them.

Stoneheart, though he had no clear superpowers, was a hulking mass of rock, crushing those who came too near.

And Heart Breaker and Queen Bee soared above, taking down anyone who tried to escape, him with his arrows and her with her daggers.

The AKUMA Program had worked beyond anything anyone at MIRACULOUS had ever imagined.  And Jean wasn’t using it to help the country, to make soldiers who would push France ahead.

He was using it to make children kill people.

Gabriel ran a hand through his hair, pushing out of his chair in order to pace the room.  Why?  Why would he do something like that?  Why would he put Gabriel in such an impossible position?

Because there was no way they could win this.  They couldn’t fight back, not really.  They couldn’t kill the AKUMAs.  They were only children, and there was _Adrien_.  He couldn’t risk him.  Or Marinette.  Or any of the others.

Marinette had said they were going to save the world, and she seemed to believe it wholeheartedly.  What kind of lies had Jean pumped into them all these years if they thought that killing thousands of people would save the world?

They couldn’t fight back, not to the extent that the government would want them to, but they couldn’t not.

This first attack had lasted three hours, and over 20 000 people had been killed.

How long would it be until no one was left?

 

**2010**

 

_“It has been three days now since the AKUMA attack on the Palais de l’_ _Élysée and the surrounding streets.  The confirmed death toll has risen to over nine thousand.  We still have not received word on President Andre Bourgeois or his family, and we are still holding out hope.”_

Sabine Dupain-Cheng sighed, turning off the television and making her way into the bakery.  She didn’t know who the news anchors thought they were kidding.  The AKUMAs hadn’t left a survivor in the two years they’d been active.  The president and his family were dead.  Everyone who’d been in the vicinity of the attack was dead.

She quickly tidied the few things she hadn’t gotten to the night before, throwing another rack of pastries into the oven, and flipped the sign on the door to open.

There weren’t many people still in Paris nowadays.  They’d all been killed or had fled the country by now.  Only the most lucky or stubborn were left, and they needed a place to buy their bread.  T&S Boulangerie-Patisserie was that place.

Sabine had family in China.  She could have left after the first attack, if she’d wanted.  They’d begged her to, actually.

But she couldn’t.  She couldn’t leave Paris, not when there was a chance that Marinette could come back, that someone would find her and bring her home.  She had to be here for Marinette, because her daughter was still alive out there, somewhere, and she wasn’t going to give up on her.

The bell on the door rang, and Sabine glanced up from the display, smiling at the man who entered.  “Bonjour.”

“Bonjour,” he returned, turning to look through a case on the opposite wall.

He was like her, she reasoned, one of the stubborn ones.  Gabriel Agreste was certainly rich enough to have escaped the country and the AKUMAs and have taken his entire fashion empire with him.

But he’d lost his wife, around the same time she’d lost Tom, and, if she remembered correctly, his son had also gone missing.  A rumour from a few years back tugged at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“I knew your husband.”

Sabine was startled from her thoughts at his words, glancing up from the display case.  Gabriel had crossed the floor at some point, leaning on the case in front of her and absently drawing patterns on the glass.

“We went to school together,” he continued, still not looking at her.  “We were friends.  And we were in a, um, bowling club together when he died.  I’m sorry.”

Sabine nodded, rising to her feet and unsure what to say.  Tom had never mentioned knowing Gabriel Agreste from school, though, now that she thought about it, he had always seemed a little too invested in the gossip surrounding the fashion empire.  And now she’d finally met one of his mysterious bowling buddies.

He met her eyes, finally, something sad and empty in his that echoed her own, and offered a sad smile.

“I gave my staff the day off,” he said, running a hand through his hair.  “A lot of them had, uh, connections to the attack a few days ago.  So if you want to come over and talk...”

Sabine stared at him for a long moment.  No one had wanted to talk in years.  Most people just wanted to get their bread and pastries as quickly as possible so they’d have to spend the least amount of time outside the relative safety of their own homes.  Being in public meant you had a larger chance of being caught up in an AKUMA attack, a larger chance of your life ending that day.

So no one wanted to talk anymore.  Except, apparently, Gabriel Agreste, who had lost his wife and his son, who was probably as lonely as she was.

So she found herself accepting.  She turned off the ovens, closing down the bakery and piling various pastries into a bag to bring with them.

And then she was inside Gabriel Fashions, arguably the most secure building in all of Paris.

Gabriel hadn’t been lying when he’d said he’d given the staff the day off—or, well, he had been, but, as everyone was down in the hidden MIRACULOUS headquarters, the empty building managed to convince Sabine they were the only ones there.

They reached his office, and Gabriel sat them down on the couch, taking a deep breath.

“I haven’t told you the whole truth,” he started, and Sabine looked at him.  He looked worn down, more so than she, and thoroughly exhausted.  “I promised Tom I wouldn’t, but I have to.  Tom and I did know each other from school, but we didn’t have a bowling team, and there’s more to it than that.”

Sabine listened as he went on, starting with the story of three children who’d lost their parents, clinging to each other as their new family.  How those children grew up and became spies for the same agency, for MIRACULOUS, that had gotten their parents killed.  How one of those children faked his death, starting a new life as a baker.  How his friend, the boy who was his brother in all but blood, kept the secret from even his sister.  How they reconnected over their lost children, using all the resources available to track them down.

How Tom Dupain-Cheng was also Guillaume Sancoeur, and how he and Adele Agreste had been killed on a secret mission to find Marinette and Adrien.

Sabine was confused, and lost, and generally overwhelmed by the information she was learning about her husband.  But Tom had always been secretive about his childhood, and Gabriel had no reason to lie to her, though she was certain there were parts he was leaving out, so all of this was most likely true.

But that still left one giant, nagging question.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Gabriel ran a hand through his hair, staring down at the table in front of them.  “I know where your daughter is.”  Sabine gasped, tensing in her seat.  “She was kidnapped by a man named Jean Papillon.  Tom and I were friends with him growing up.  We worked with him in MIRACULOUS until they cut the funding for our program.  Jean quit the agency and continued our research.  Tom and I helped him, until he started taking it too far.  That’s when we faked his death, and I left Jean as well, and he disappeared.

“We were working on a serum to create supersoldiers, but we were never anywhere near success.”  Gabriel laughed humourlessly, shaking his head.  “But somehow Jean succeeded on his own.”  He offered Sabine a wry smile.  “It was called the AKUMA Program, Sabine.  Tom and I are partially responsible for the AKUMAs, and Marinette, she’s Ladybug.”

Sabine didn’t say anything, just staring at Gabriel with an open mouth.  None of this was making any sense.  Why would Tom have helped create something so terrible?  Though, if Gabriel’s words were something to go by, he’d quit when he’d become Tom.  None of the AKUMAs looked anywhere near old enough to have even been alive before she met Tom.

But if what Gabriel was saying was true, that meant that Marinette was still alive, that she was being used to kill hundreds of thousands of people.

 _If_ what he was saying was true.  Which lead to the next question:

“How do you know this?”

Gabriel offered her another broken smile.  “Because my Adrien is Chat Noir.”

The rumour she’d half remembered earlier in the day came back.  The photographs that had turned up after Adrien Agreste’s kidnapping, the words written in blood.  Those same words showing up eight years later from the mouths of the children who’d dressed up as superheroes and told the cameras they were going to save the world.  Those same words splashed across headlines when they’d turned out to be supervillains instead.  The tabloids that had connected those incidents, wondering in the Agrestes’ involvement in the attacks but unable to pin any proof.

Gabriel wasn’t lying.  He wasn’t making any of this up.  Marinette was still alive, but she was Ladybug, one of the two most feared monsters set on tearing the country apart.  And his son was the other.

“Why?” she whispered, hands gripping each other so tightly they were turning white.  “Why would he do this?”

“Jean?”  Gabriel shrugged.  “He was furious that Tom and I abandoned him.  Taking Adrien and Marinette was his revenge.”

“And the others?” Sabine pressed.  “There’s more AKUMA than just them, Gabriel.  Why did he take them?”

Gabriel shrugged again, standing and crossing the room to his desk.  “We can only guess,” he said, returning with a folder.  “But my guess is power.  In taking Marinette, he’d gotten his revenge on Tom, but hadn’t really gained much else.  Blackmailing a baker doesn’t really get you much, if you don’t mind me saying.

“But in taking Adrien, he had control over the entire Parisian faction of MIRACULOUS.”  He sighed.  “I’m not proud of some of the decisions I’ve made when he’s threatened Adrien’s life.

“Next he gets the chance to take Iron Chef Marlena Césaire’s daughter and turns her into Lady Wifi.”  He opened the folder, dropping a picture of a smiling toddler onto the coffee table.  “Now she can use her fame to turn people to his side.  Same with Amun Lahiffe’s son.”  Another picture.  “If the rock star doesn’t convert his fans, the Bubbler dies.

“And then he gets his first taste of real power when he kidnaps Chloe Bourgeois.”  Another picture, a small girl smiling as her father is instated as president.  “And now he as good as controls France.  But clearly Queen Bee has become too much of an asset for him to kill her when her father makes a decision that he doesn’t like, so they’re sent to kill him instead.”  Gabriel shook his head, staring down at the pictures.  “All those years of selling himself out and it doesn’t even matter.”

Sabine stared at the pictures with him, at the kids who were suffering the same fate as her daughter. 

“Who else does he have?” she wondered, imagining just how far this man’s power truly reached.

“Dessinateur, son of former US President Kurtzberg.”  Each name came with a picture, of a happy child that shouldn’t have been turned into a monster.  “Heart Breaker, son of Spain’s current star forward Le Chien Mai.  Reflekta, daughter of the founders of the Couffaine beauty empire.  Stoneheart’s parents run a Canadian dog training show.  Chronogirl is the daughter of movie stars Marcus Kubdel and Caline Bustier.  Princess Fragrance, Scandinavian princess.  Climatika, Horrificator, and Volpina, daughters of the Icelandic, German, and Italian presidents, respectively.  Gamer’s mother created the Mecha Strike video game franchise.  And Vanisher is the daughter of the head of the Scotland Yard.”  Gabriel dropped the folder and ran his hand through his hair again.  “And that’s just the ones that have made an appearance.  Who knows how many more he has that he hasn’t put into the field yet.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Sabine asked, eyes darting over the pictures of the children Marinette had grown up with the kids who were most likely the only family she could remember.  “Why now?

Gabriel looked up her.  “Jean’s sent pictures,” he said.  “And videos.  Evidence over the years that, yes, your kid is still alive, so you’d better behave.  Everyone knows their child is an AKUMA.  Except you.  Tom was the one who got the pictures and videos, not you.”  He grabbed her hand, staring earnestly into her eyes.  “You have to leave France, Sabine.  It’s not safe here, especially for the families of AKUMAs.  Bourgeois all but ran France into the ground trying to keep his daughter safe, and Jean still killed him.  You need to leave.  You need to be safe.”

But Sabine was shaking her head, taking her arm back.  “I’m not leaving Marinette,” she told him, narrowing her eyes.  “When we get her back, I need to be here for her.”

Gabriel stared at her for a long moment, and seemed to decide that there was no arguing with her.

“Then move into the mansion,” he insisted.  “It’s safer here, and we can protect you.”

Sabine refused again.  “There are only three bakeries left in Paris,” she said.  “People come to me because I’m the only place they can get their bread on this side of the city.  I need to keep the bakery open.”

Gabriel sighed, sinking back into the couch, too exhausted to argue.  “At least let me have security measures put in place,” he compromised, and Sabine agreed.

She did have one request, however, that was really more of an insistence.

“Make me an agent,” she said, gripping his arm in the same way he’d gripped hers earlier.  “Train me to be MIRACULOUS, Gabriel.  I want to help get our kids back.”

Gabriel found himself nodding before he could think too much about it.

 

**2016**

 

Most of the ‘news’ these days were speculations.  What were the AKUMAs goals?  Why would they target a fashion house?  What was MIRACULOUS doing to hunt the AKUMA, when it’d been eight years with no success?

Sabine was one of the few who knew the actual answers to the questions that were asked.  Jean Papillon wanted revenge, the AKUMAs wanted to save the world.  They didn’t target Gabriel Fashions, technically, but the MIRACULOUS headquarters below.  And they’d never killed an AKUMA because they never used lethal force.  Because Gabriel Agreste put the life of his son above the lives of the world, and Sabine agreed with his decision.

A breaking news announcement flashed on the screen, and Sabine took another bite of her bagel.

_“We have just received a list of fifty victims of the latest AKUMA attack that are confirmed dead.  Among those are Gabriel Agreste himself.”_

Sabine nodded, the tears returning despite everything.  Despite the fact that she already knew.

Because everyone already knew that anyone in that building was dead.  Gabriel.  Nathalie.  Gorille.  All of them.

Because the AKUMAs never left survivors.

The list went on, confirming Nathalie and Gorille’s deaths among others, and Sabine let herself wonder.

She wondered whether Gabriel got to see Adrien in person one last time.  She wondered what it would be like, whether it would have been better or worse if he had.

She let herself wonder whether she’d want to see Marinette when the AKUMAs kill her—because, by now, after eight years of constant attacks, it was a matter of _when_ and not _if_ —and hoped that Papillon still had no idea that she’d been working with Gabriel, that she had any clue that he had Marinette.

Her eyes drifted away from the television, still listing the names of people who would never come home again, staring out the window and finding the still-smoking remains of the once great Agreste Mansion a few blocks away, and she wondered how she’d been lucky enough to get a migraine the day of the attack bad enough to have to call in sick.

Because she was supposed to be there.

But she couldn’t dwell on it.  Because, if she was to dwell on all the horrible things that had happened in her life, she’d never get anything done.

So she dried her tears and turned off the TV and made her way downstairs to turn the sign on the door to open.

 

_Two Weeks Later_

 

 _“For thirteen years, we watched our baby be used as a monster.  Jean Papillon, the man who stole my son, he would send pictures and videos.  Horrible, terrible things.  Nath, he’d be in these machines, in pain, and we’d have to watch them and look at them we couldn’t do anything to help him.”_ Marjorie Kurtzberg paused, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief.  _“We watched him transform from my baby, my Nathanael, into Dessinateur.”_

_“So you’re claiming your son is one of the AKUMA?”_

_“Not claiming, no.  I’m telling you that he is.  I have proof.”_   She took a shaky breath, holding up a photograph that had to be cut out of the picture on daytime television.  _“He was blackmailing us, Papillon was.  If we didn’t do everything he said, if we didn’t send him money, run America the way he wanted us to, he’d hurt Nathanael.  He threatened to kill him._

_“So we did everything he asked.  We sent the government’s money to offshore accounts he directed us to.  We passed laws.  We sacrificed my husband’s presidency.  Anything he wanted, we did it.”_

_“Why do you choose to speak now, when this could cause Papillon to kill Nathaneal?”_

Marjorie let out a humourless laugh, gazing into the camera with dead eyes.  _“Because it didn’t matter, in the end,”_ she said.  _“Because Papillon is going to do whatever the hell he wants anyway.  Because we did everything he wanted, and Nathanael was still mailed to us in pieces when he was finished with him.”_

The piece faded to black, and the talk show hosts sat solemnly at the table.

Eloise spoke first, folding her hands on the table.  “I don’t know whether we should be celebrating the death of an AKUMA, or grieving with the Kurzberg family over the death of their son,” she said.

“If I was them,” Marie said, waving a finger, “I’d be better off no longer being the parents of a monster.”

Nadja Chemack swallowed heavily and forced herself to smile at the crude joke, adding comments whenever she felt she’d been silent for too long.

The topic turned, as she knew it would, to the identities of the rest of the AKUMA.

“No, I’m serious.”  Eloise leaned forward over the table, staring down her cohosts.  “Queen Bee looks like a Bourgeois, and Chloe Bourgeois would be about the right age if she was still alive.”

“ _If_ she was still alive,” Helene argued.  “President Bourgeois confirmed her death well before the attacks began, so there’s no way.”

“Hey, didn’t your daughter go missing last year, Nadja?” Marie interjected.  Nadja’s blood ran cold as all eyes were suddenly on her.  Marie was grinning, like this was all a big joke.  “You aren’t protecting AKUMA, are you?”

She could feel the producer’s stare and knew Alec was praying she didn’t somehow mess this up and expose them.

She hoped beyond anything that the AKUMAs would be defeated soon, before Papillon deemed Manon ready.  Because they had videos hidden under their floor of what her daughter could do, and humanity didn’t stand a chance if Manon was ever sent on an attack.

But she couldn’t say any of that, so she forced a smile and faked a laugh and subtly steered the conversation in a different, Papillon-approved direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for killing off so many new(ish) characters in this chapter, but if you've read the fic this far you'd have known they were coming (except for Gui-Tom's, but I couldn't disappoint you with no spontaneous character death in a chapter).
> 
> And shout out to scarlet99 on Tumblr for winning the chance to be killed off in this chapter by winning the What Should 2008 Ladybug's Lucky Charm Be contest (that was really only a contest for like two hours earlier today) with the suggestion of an ax. Just subtly-terrifying enough to be perfect.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!  
> Let me know what you think!  
> Comments are life and asks are golden!  
> Come yell at me on Tumblr at probably-voldemort :)


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